


A Northern Fool Dies, A Dragon Wolf Rises

by cmyatt01, Jxcamacho04



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #justice4viserion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jon Snow, Bittersweet, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys and Jon Both Deserved Better, Dany Doesn't Fuck That Blue Haired Cunt, Dragon Daddy!Jon, F/M, Fuck D & D, Fuck the Starks, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not Mad Either, Jon has a voice inside his head, Jonerys (not a Harem), No Stupid Wight Hunt, R Plus L Equals J, Targaryen Restoration, There Must Always Be a Stark at Winterfell, Time Travel Fix-it of sorts, What's a Timeline?, for now at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmyatt01/pseuds/cmyatt01, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jxcamacho04/pseuds/Jxcamacho04
Summary: After killing Daenerys, Jon is exiled to spend the rest of his days at the Wall. North of the Wall, Jon hears a voice that claims he can fix the past.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 422
Kudos: 762





	1. Prologue - The Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon awakens from a nightmare to a voice inside his head and visions of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cmyatt01: I want to thank Jxcamacho04 for reaching out to me and asking if I would help out with this amazing idea.

* * *

_ “You will be my Queen, now and always,” he murmured against her soft, warm lips as he plunged the dagger straight into her heart… _

The former King in the North looked down at her in the final moment of his betrayal. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. Shock. Hurt. Betrayal as her eyes became glassy with unshed tears as she looked into his soul. As her eyes fell closed for the last time, He knew she saw her killer, heartbroken as he cried over her corpse. 

* * *

####  **_Beyond The Wall…_ **

Jon awoke with a start. He did not know why he even closed his eyes to sleep anymore, because whenever he did, that horrific day just played over and over in his mind.

He stumbled out of this hut, taking large gulps of the icy air - allowing it to burn in his lungs and remind him of where he was and that it was just a nightmare of his past. As his heart rate begins to return to a steady rhythm, he stares at the sky with so much sadness and anger, knowing why. Because he killed his true love, he murdered the only woman who accepted him for the man he was. Daenerys did not care if he was the bastard son of one of the men who helped destroy her family. She treated him as though he was more than just an unwanted child born of lust. She treated him as a human being whose life had value. 

And he did the same... He could see himself spending the rest of his days with her. He had never been so happy. However, when they reached the gates of Winterfell, everything went straight to the seven hells for their love. Beginning with the cold reception from Sansa and the other Northerners. Then another wedge when the truth of his parentage came to light. 

After the Night King was destroyed, instead of calm before taking the Iron Throne in her name, all hell broke loose. During the battle for the dawn, Dany lost her oldest protector, Ser Jorah; her old bear gave his life to save hers. Then Sansa betrayed him by telling Tyrion about his parentage after he had sworn her to secrecy in front of the Heart Tree.

Somehow, Cersei Lannister and Euron Greyjoy learned of their travel plans and the way south, one of her sons, her green and bronze dragon, Rhaegal - the dragon that had chosen him to be his rider, was slaughtered in an ambush by the Ironbron. In the same attack, her best friend and advisor, Missandei, was captured and taken to King’s Landing. Her sweet friend was then murdered in front of her at Cersei Lannister’s command. 

When he reached Dragonstone, he learned Master of Whisperers, Varys, betrayed her, and it was his fault. If he had just kept his mouth shut and never told Sansa he was a Targaryen, Varys never would have begun plotting to place him on the Iron Throne. Dany had no choice but to set the Spider to ashes by Drogon's flames.

Dany lost him as well. She was crying out for help and love, comfort, and reassurance that everything would be alright. She had lost so much in such a short amount of time. She needed him. However, instead of being the man, the family, she needed, he would murmur “I love you” or “You are my queen,” as he pushed her further and further away. __

Was he really a northern fool after all? 

Looking back, he could clearly see she was begging him to be there for her. To show her he loved her. That he cared about her… And all he could say was, “you are my queen.”  _ What in the god’s names was I thinking? _ He knew she was hurting, and yet he pushed her so far, so hard, that all she felt she had left was for the people to fear her.  _ I was hurting too. I had just learned everything I thought I knew about who I was, was a lie.  _

And then there was the breaking point. The moment when the Lannister soldiers in King’s Landing surrendered, and the bells rang throughout the city. He knew the battle was over, and she would be sitting on the throne. But when he looked over at her as she sat atop Drogon on the Wall surrounding the city, he noticed something about her had changed - her facial expression was nothing he had ever seen before. He was shocked. He wanted to run to her. To stop her from doing something she would regret in her grief, but he was on the ground. He tried to yell to get her attention, but it was too late. 

It was as if something inside her snapped. Drogon took off into the sky and began burning everything to the ground at her command. He saw the horror on the faces of those around him when ashes began to fall to the ground like snow and smoke filled the air. There were dead bodies surrounding him. The bodies of innocent women and children, blackened to a crisp - the smell of the charred flesh filling the air. There were the bodies of soldiers lying in the streets with blood sprouting from their battle wounds. 

Jon did not know what she said to her Dothraki and Unsullied in her victory speech; however, Tyrion told him it was not good and he and the rest of Westerso would never be safe as long as she was alive. He did not want to believe the Imp, but he was ashamed and disgusted by her actions to believe otherwise. Still, he had to speak to her. He had to know why she did what she did. Why she became what she had worked so hard to avoid. So, he made his way to the destroyed Throne Room. When she told him  _ “it was necessary,” _ he did what he had to do. It was what his honor demanded. Tyrion told him it was the right thing - the only thing that would ensure the safety of Westeros.  _ Yet was it?  _

After recalling all that had led him to where he was now, he collapsed to his knees in the snow outside of his hut. He cried out with so much anger, tears streaming down his face as he wished he was not a northern fool - a fool that had been used as a pawn in the game of thrones. After killing the woman he loved, he was betrayed by the people he thought he saved, by those he thought cared for him. They exiled him as a queenslayer, a kinslayer, sentenced to spend the rest of his days at the Wall in peace. Yet, here he was alone with a ghost, but deep in his heart, he is a shell of what he was before. Jon pulled out a dagger and was ready to end his life, to end this conflict with himself and finally have peace... 

Suddenly, visions began passing before him… 

Images of a disheveled older man with long, unkempt silvery hair and beard, with dirty fingernails that seemed impossibly long sitting atop the Iron Throne, laughing.  _ Aerys… Dany’s father - my grandfather,  _ Jon knew instantly. Across from the King was a Lord in full armor, with a face that looked similar to the man who raised him, hanging from the rafters with green flames burning below his feet. Just to the side was another, younger lord, with a noose around his neck trying to reach a sword. 

The scene then jumped to a battle field. There was a young man, who looked similar to Gendry, hitting a man in Targaryen armor in the chest with a warhammer. Seconds later, he was again in the Throne Room, Aerys sitting on the Iron Throne, screaming  _ “BURN THEM ALL!” _ as a fresh faced Ser Jaime Lannister put his sword through the King’s back. Then he was somewhere else. Somewhere hot and dry. Flashes of a sword fight outside of a red tower in the desert caught his eye, which ended with a woman’s screams. 

_ Robert’s Rebellion… _

The next thing he knew, he was seeing himself as a fifteen year old greenboy thinking the Night’s Watch was the only way he would be able to bring honor to his name until now. 

He clenched his fists in anger. Gods, _ I am such a Northern fool _ . 

He watched as Tyrion failed Daenerys over and over as Hand of the Queen. He watched the Lannister dwarf fail at ruling Meereen in her stead while she was held hostage by the Dothraki Khals. He saw how the Imp’s advice had gotten every Westerosi ally of hers killed.  _ How did she even allow him to serve as her Hand? _

He saw Sansa telling Tyrion his secret atop the battlements at Winterfell. Then, a vision of the Battle of the Bastards. But instead of his eyes, he saw it from where Sansa was sitting atop her horse. Little Finger was by her side. This was when he realized Little Finger the army from the Vale had been there for days, camped just a few miles away. She was waiting for him and their army to be slaughtered before she sent in the Knights of the Vale in to save them. Jon was hurt and disgusted. Surprised that he survived the battle now that was seeing how Sansa had betrayed him from the time she showed up at Castle Black. He now sees his fault for trusting her because she was his family. 

He saw so many events happen in the blink of an eye. All these events, he now understood how he failed Dany and how they all had manipulated him since the beginning. Jon was angry because all of this led to their downfall, the fall of House Targaryen. 

Is this supposed to be the end? Of him? Of House Targaryen? 

Was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark always destined to be a kinslayer? A murderer? 

“Now, with everything you have seen, what do you think?” he heard an unknown yet familiar voice echo in his ears.

“Who is there!” Jon demanded, scanning the woods around him for the threat as he unsheathed Longclaw. “SHOW YOURSELF!” he screamed when he saw no one.

“You are carrying the wrong weapon,” The voice tsked, “Although it would not be a problem if you held two blades.”

“Who are you? Show yourself,” he repeated. 

“It matters not who I am. You have seen everything now. What will you do about what you have seen?” 

_ Gods, I am hearing voices in my head. Maybe I have finally achieved the Targaryen Madness. _

“There’s nothing I can do,” Jon spat, “Danaerys is dead. I killed her! There is nothing left for me here. I am done! Just let me kill myself so I can put an end to my suffering!”

“You are still a northern fool. Have you learned nothing from these visions and events that have occurred in your past?”

“What could they do?” Jon laughed. He could not believe he was having a conversation with himself. “They showed me everything. They showed me all the ways Dany was failed by those who advised her. They showed me all the ways I failed and reminded me of the fact I cannot go back and change anything... If I look back, I am lost.”

“What if I told you, you have one chance to go back and change some of your mistakes? To go back to before you forgot who you were and lost your way?” 

“Stop lying to me. There is not a way to change anything. The ink is dry. It is done. I am the last of the Targaryen’s! And as soon as I end myself, the world will be rid of the Targaryen madness once and for all.” 

“You doubt yourself, my boy,” the voice said with sadness. “But it was not your fault. You were misguided and manipulated because of the love you held for your mothers’ family… By your inability to embrace your father’s dragon blood… And I am partially to blame for that.”

“What the fuck are you to blame for me being a godsdamn idiot?”  _ Gods, I am really fucking losing it, telling the fucking voice in my head he is not to blame for my decisions. Fuck, maybe I have been mad all along. _

“You are right when you say Ned Stark was more of a father than the man who sired you... and yet, he still lied to you. He never told you the truth of who you were born to be. He claimed you to be his bastard to keep you safe from his best friend, who he had helped place on the Iron Throne,” the voice sighed remorsefully. “I was angry for some time, but I do not blame your Uncle for keeping you hidden… He saved your life. However, it still was wrong. Had you been raised differently or told you who you really were before allowing you to go to the Wall... Or had your father won, life would have been different for you and Daenarys. But alas, fate has been cruel for us Targaryens. Here you are alone and filled with sorrow and regret. A queenslayer. A kinslayer. You say you loved her, that she would always be your queen, but that did not stop you from shoving your dagger into her heart. It did not stop you from believing she had succumbed to madness… If you truly loved her, would you not have just realized she was crying for help? That she felt vulnerable and alone? You pushed her grief just as much as the others did, Aegon.” 

Jon just was silent. He could not disagree with anything the voice inside his head was telling him. He had told himself the same things many times since he was exiled to the lands beyond the Wall. However, hearing a voice other than his own tells him the truth behind his mistakes makes him feel even more guilty. 

“I did not want to kill her,” Jon admitted, “I only did it because I thought it was the right thing to do. That it was the only way to protect my family - to protect all the people of Westeros… That it was what was best for the realm,” He murmured, willing himself to believe the words that left his mouth. 

“Yet, it felt so wrong,” The voice challenged. “It still feels wrong.”

“Lord Tyrion made me think she was mad. That she had become the reincarnation of her father, I didn’t want to believe him, but in the Throne Room, when she told me, _ “They don’t get to choose,”  _ I just could not look at her the same anymore. It was as if those words made everything Tyrion had told me make sense. But it was wrong of me to take her life with my hands. I should not have sentenced her to death. I regret it more with each passing day because I lost the love of my life. The only one who made me happy and made me feel as though my life had a purpose… Not even, Ygritte - the first girl I thought I loved, could make me feel the way Dany did… Everything about me has been a lie since the day my mother placed me in her brother’s arms… I was not able to embrace who I am until it was too late… Just one more failure I failed to see.”

“Aye,” the voice stated, mimicking Jon’s thick northern accent, once he had finished rambling. “You are a northern fool. You failed to realize the plots of the game unfolding around you. You were unable to see everything revolving around you and her. You allowed yourself to become a lap dog instead of an actual wolf. Yes, they are your family by blood, but family would support you. Family would have stood by you and not allowed you to be exiled to rot away, ready to kill yourself as you are wanting to do right now.”

Jon wanted to protest. To say his siblings were just protecting him from Daenerys’ army, but the words died on his lips. He knew, once again, what the voice said was true. The Starks used him. Sansa to become the Queen she always desired to be and Bran to become King because he thought he knew better than everyone else. Tyrion also used him to remain in power. They could have allowed him to return to Winterfell or given him a keep somewhere in the north to live out his days at, but no. They sentenced him to a life of loneliness… Not once had they even sent a raven to ask how he was doing or if he needed anything. 

“You were destined to rule the seven kingdoms,” the voice continued, breaking the silence. “You were born to save Westeros from the Great Other… to avenge your brother, sister, father, mother, your stepmother, Elia, Yet you did not avenge them? No, you didn’t avenge any of your Targaryen kin… You did, however, avenge Robb Stark, the young wolf, who you believed was your brother. Exterminating the Bolton’s was a great victory, which led to you being crowned as the White Wolf. The KING IN THE NORTH.”

“Taking back, Winterfell - Killing Ramsay Bolton - it was the right thing to do.”  _ Why the fuck is the voice inside my head telling me it was wrong to avenge the Red Wedding? _

“Yes,” the voice agreed. “But you must remember, you are not just a wolf, YOU ARE A DRAGON WOLF. The blood of the first men of Westeros and the blood of Old Valyria runs equally through your veins. You cannot embrace just one as you did in the past. To be who you were born to be, you must embrace both sides of your heritage. While at the Wall, you chose the wolf, you failed, and you died for it. The Lord of Light brought you back, only for you to fail yet again as a wolf. Now, you see your folly and your undoing.”

Jon just stared at the lush, snow covered forest around him in disbelief. The voice was telling him so much truth that his pain had become even greater. Looking back he could not believe how blind he had been. How he had given his trust to those who did not deserve it.

“Search your feelings, my kin,” the voice said with such a pained emotion, as though the voice could feel Jon’s inner turmoil. “You know what I say to be true.”

_ Seven fucking hells. I think the voice in my head understands me and knows me more than I know myself. _

“Now I ask you again,” the voice stated firmly, demanding Jon’s full attention. “With everything you have witnessed in these visions… Everything from Robert’s Rebellion, to your childhood. From reuniting with your sister and seeing her manipulations. From the ashes falling upon King's Landing, to the Throne Room where you were manipulated and used to take the life of your love... Would you change the ending?”

“Fuck YES! I would change all!” Jon proclaimed without a second thought as he stood from where he had been wallowing in self pity the snow and ice.

Jon could feel the fire beginning to burn in his soul. He was getting pissed. All he wanted to do was end his suffering and not think about it anymore than he already had.

“I would do anything to avoid killing Dany. Anything to make sure she was safe and back in my arms. She did not deserve the fate I handed her... She did not deserve to be killed like an unwanted pet,” he spat. “I would do whatever it takes to avoid the pain she went through after listening to her shitty advisors… If I could, I would kill all of them for how they pulled the strings and used me as their fucking puppet. I betrayed her, and I would take it all back if I could!”

Jon could feel his nostrils flaring with anger. “Does that answer your fucking question? Whoever you are, you have my guilt and regrets. But I cannot change my past mistakes! What more do you want of me? Please, stop tormenting me and let me die!”

“Not so fast my feisty Dragonwolf,” the voice sounded amused by his outburst. “By admitting your guilt, you have taken a step forward in embracing who you truly are.” 

Jon scoffed. “It’s a little too late.”

“It is not too late,” the voice declared, getting Jon’s attention. “No longer shall you be Jon Snow, the bastard son of the Warden of the North. No longer will you be a lap dog to serve others you feel are better than you because of **_their_** birth. You are Aegon Targaryen, **_the trueborn_** son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The song of ice and fire. You are **_both_** a **_dragon_** and a **_wolf_** , and you will not cower to no man or gods or even your own mother’s family.”

Jon was speechless at this voice’s declaration. “Jon Snow dies tonight!” the voice proclaimed. “You must bury that name because it no longer means a thing to you! Kill Jon Snow and let the Targaryen king be born from his ashes!” 

“AYE!” For the first time in years… Maybe his entire life, he felt truly alive and not just as though he was walking through the motions. He felt purpose and hope.

“Always remember, a Targaryen alone is a terrible thing.”

“Maester Aemon once told me that,” Jon replied, recalling the late Maester at Castle Black. “He was a great man… one of the best men I ever knew. He was counseling me to be the best I could be from the moment I arrived at the Night’s Watch. Gods I was a fool. I should have realized he was my kin...” 

“Then do not be that fool and hear me when I say this to you,” the voice snapped, stopping Jon’s ramblings. “Your enemies must be taken off balance if you want to succeed. So I shall share some counsel with you that you mustn't forget if you truly want to restore our house, House Targaryen.”

“And what would that be?”  _ Gods now even my subconscious is giving my council. I have truly gone mad. _

“Do not hesitate and show no mercy to those who wish to cause you harm. But do not be paranoid, like I became. You know who you can trust and who to be weary of. However, you cannot burn people for sins they have yet to commit… But always keep their past sins close in your thoughts and watch them closely… Only then will you be strong enough to rule with your beloved, my only daughter, Daenerys. Only then will Targaryens once again rule the seven kingdoms as it always should've been with fire and blood… And tell Ser Jaime, he did the right thing when he killed me...”

The voice vanished. 

After hearing that, he was dumbfounded, “Grand Father Aerys?” He whispered aloud in disbelief, shaking his head. “I have truly succumbed to the Targeryen madness.”

A sudden wind began blowing the snow from the limbs of the trees surrounding his camp. The smell of pine filling the morning air. The wind seemed unnatural. As if it were coming from something he knew. He knew exactly what made that type of wind as a shadow was cast upon the area around him.  _ A dragon.  _

His head quickly whipped to the direction of the wind and shadow, just in time to see Drogon approaching at a very fast rate. The Black Dread Reborn was much larger than he recalled from his hazy memories and flying faster than he remembered. He did not even have time to blink before the dragon hovered in front of him. Not even a second later, hot orange flames were spewing from Drogon’s throat, engulfing him where he stood and all went dark. 


	2. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   * Jon returns to a time at Castle Black - but things are not quite the same as he remembers 
>   * Rhaegal is freed from his chains below the Great Pyramid in Meereen 
> 


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * **Jxcamacho04:** everybody was hoping for jon to go back to season 1 we all know many of you did it why would we do the same when we can go from castle black and go from there.
>   * **cmyatt01:** Holy crap! We are both completely blown away by the response to the last chapter! We tried to reply to everyone, but if we missed someone, I do apologize. Thank you so much, everyone, for your support! Hope you all enjoy this next little bit. 
> 


###  **Castle Black…….**

It was hot. _Too hot._

Hotter than the hot springs, he swam in at Winterfell’s godswood with his brothers and sisters _\- Stark cousins -_ as a child. Warmer than the pool of hot water in the cave beyond the Wall where he became a man.

However, the heat was not smothering. It felt like what he imagined a mother’s embrace would feel like when he was scared as a child. It felt comforting and full of care, tenderness, and love. 

_I am dead. Drogon burned me to ashes somewhere near what used to be Hardhome. I must be descending to the seven hells… But the last time I died, there was nothing. It was just a black void. I was dead; then, I was breathing._

Jon could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Something was wrong. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. 

✦✧✦✧✦

_“We’ve committed treason, all of us.” Allister Thone spat with disgust. “Jon Snow was my Lord Commander. I had no love for him. That was no secret. But I never once disobeyed an order even when I did not agree with it. Loyalty is the foundation on which the Night’s Watch is built, and the Watch means everything to me. I have given my life. We have all given our lives to the Night’s Watch. Jon Snow was going to destroy the Night’s Watch. He ordered me to let the wildlings through our gates, an order no Lord Commander has ever given before. Then he gave them the very land on which they reaved and raped and murdered. Lord Commander Snow did what he thought was right; I do not doubt that. And I did what I did because what he thought was right would have been the end of us. He thrust a terrible choice upon us, and we made it.”_

Jon could hear the pride in Thorne’s tone as he admitted to murdering his Lord Commander - murdering him. _Gods, I would love to kill him again when I get to the seven hells. I knew then, and I know now, bringing the Free Folk south was the right thing. Traitorous cunt._

✦✧✦✧✦

_“I told the young Lord Commander just before he left that he would have little joy in his command, but that I believed he had the strength to do the things that needed to be done. This is my fault. I should have known.”_

_Maester Aemon? Nothing that happened to me was your fault. I should have listened to your council more._ Jon was perplexed. Where was he? Who was the wise old Maester talking to? Why the fuck could he not open his eyes and allow the hells to embrace him with their flames. 

✦✧✦✧✦

_“I didn’t know Lord Commander Snow for long, but from what I gathered, he was a good man. He wanted to keep everyone in the Realms of Men safe… I don’t believe he would have wanted to see his friends die for nothing._

_“If you were planning to see tomorrow, you picked the wrong room. We all die today. I say we do our best to take Thorne with us when we go.”_

_Ser Davos? Edd? Where the fuck am I? What the fuck is going on?_

✦✧✦✧✦

_“He took a lot of knives. I’ll have my men get the wood for a fire… He deserves to be burned. The last thing he’d want is to come back as one of them dead fuckers.”_

_Tormund?_

✦✧✦✧✦

Jon then heard the scraping of chains against a stone floor and the growling of dragons. He knew one of those growls. He missed that growl. _Rhaegal? Is that you boy?_

 _Father…_

_Rhaegal can you hear me? Where are you? Why are you in the hells? If you are here, come to me. I need you._

_I am breaking free. I will come for you, Father. I will protect you._

Jon could feel the bond he shared with the green dragon; it was as though the connection had never been severed. However, he did not understand why he would need to be protected in the seven hells. It was the hells and it was supposed to be punishment. He did not deserve to be protected.

_“I'm friends with your mother… I'm here to help... Don't eat the help.”_

_Tyrion fucking Lannister… What the fuck. Why the fuck is he calling Dany his friend. Did he die while I have been wondering beyond the Wall? At least he is already in the seven hells where he belongs._

✦✧✦✧✦

_“Jon Snow cannot be dead,” he heard the disheartened tone of the normally confident Red Witch. “I saw him in the flames, fighting at Winterfell.”_

_“Maybe you are right… Maybe he doesn’t have to stay dead.”_

_“What do you mean, Ser Davos?”_

_“Do you know of any magic... that could help him? Bring him back?”_

_“If you want to help him, leave him be. Let his soul rest,” Melisandre said. She seemed distant, faithless._

_“Can it be done?” Ser Davos demanded. “I have heard about priests and priestesses of your faith that have had the magic to bring people back. I know you have power. I have seen you drink poison and live. I have seen you give birth to a demon with Stannis’ face… Tell me there is something you can do to help the Lord Commander!”_

_“I once met a Priest, who claimed to have this power.” She seemed to have regained a slight amount of emotion._

_“How? How did he do it?”_

_“He just said he asked the Lord to return his friend.”_

_“Well, can we ask your god to return a man I consider to be a friend?” Davos pleaded. “Jon was a good man who did good things. He did not deserve this fate.”_

_“I have an idea,” Maester Aemon said with determination as he entered the conversation between Melisandre and Ser Davos._

✦✧✦✧✦

Jon finally was able to crack his heavy eyelids and he was surprised to see flames dancing around him. It was as if the flames were warming his once frozen body, reigniting the spark that had been burnt out. _The flames seem to be playing with me._

He was unable to sit up, but after a few moments, he regained the strength to wiggle his fingers. Then move his hands. Finally he was able to lift his arms. He lifted them so that his hands were straight out above his head. Instantly the fire began licking and kissing his pale skin. But it was not painful like the time he burned his hand by throwing the lantern at the wight to save Lord Commander Mormont. It was soothing. Comforting, like a warm embrace from a long lost friend.

He inspected his hands as the flames continued their dance, and he realized the scar he earned on his sword hand from that encounter was gone. _What in the seven hells?_ He flexed his once scarred hand. No longer was it tight and stiff; he could now bend and straighten all of his fingers without stiffness, pain or resistance. _Why would the seven hells take away my scar? Why do I need a good hand here? Am I destined to spend the rest of my afterlife fighting battles as well?_

A loud crack shook Jon from this astonishment. His gaze darted from his now smooth hand to his stomach, where the crack had originated. His eyes widened in shock, not because of the familiar gashes left across his torso and through his heart by the mutineers blades, but because he saw a wee baby silver dragon with red eyes, _eyes just like Ghost’s,_ crawling up his chest, towards his face.

The dragon stopped it’s assent when it met Jon’s bewildered gaze. It stared at him for a moment, as though he was determining if he was worthy. A few seconds later, the dragon hatchling began nuzzling it’s head under Jon’s chin, the same way Ghost did as a pup when he was demanding pets. 

“How is this possible? Why is there a baby dragon with me in the seven hells?” Jon murmured as he scratched the infant dragon’s warm, silver scales. The action earning _purrs_ from the small creature.

As far as Jon can remember, he could not recall a reading about a silver dragon with red eyes in Westerosi history. So many questions were swirling around in his mind. There was so much he did not understand. _I am even in the seven hells or is this some other sort of punishment from the gods?_ He needed answers. 

He began to hear murmurs on the other side of the flames. The voices sounded familiar, but he could not make out what was being said. He also felt Ghost. His loyal direwolf had followed him to wherever he was. He knew he needed to get to Ghost and to whomever was on the other side of the wall of fire. He slowly sat up and tried to push himself off the ground, but his legs would not cooperate. 

He heard more murmurs on the other side of the flames and he knew that he needed to get there. He knew that there was someone waiting for him on the other side. Someone that could give him answers. Someone that could tell him what the fuck was going on and what was to be expected from him in the hells.

After a few more moments of taking slow deep breaths, he felt as though he had absorbed enough strength from the flames. He willed his legs to move, and after they did, he used the energy he received from the bath of fire to push himself off the hard, blackened ground to a standing position. Once he was on his feet, he placed the dragon hatching on his shoulder and walked through the wall of flames, to whoever was waiting for him on the other side.

After a few, slow and clumsy steps he emerged on the other side of the flames. He could not believe what was waiting for him on the other side.

He was not in the fiery depths of the hells as he imagined, he was in the snow covered courtyard of Castle Black. _Is Castle Black the hells the gods have chosen to send me to?_

But things were different than he remembered when he was sent there for exile. 

There were faces there he had not seen since the _first_ time he was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Ser Davos and Melisandre were there as well as Maester Aemon, Edd, Satin, and other brothers he had not seen since his watch ended _the first time_. On the other side of the courtyard were Wun Wun and Tormund and hundreds of other Wildlings he knew had given their lives fighting at Winterfell and during the battle against the Night King. Ghost let out a silent howl before rushing to his side. 

_What the fuck is going on?_ _These people should not be in the seven hells? The last I heard from Tormund, he was alive and on a quest to find a new big woman to make monster babies with,_ Jon thought, threading his fingers through his direwolf’s soft fur, holding onto him as he took another wobbly step forward.

When he did this, everyone, except the Free Folk fell to their knees. The men of the Night’s Watch were looking at him with disbelief. Maester Aemon was prideful and smiling. The Red Priestess looked prideful and accomplished as she smirked at him. The Free Folk were looking at him with awe and wonder. _No wonder Tormund said they thought I was some kind of god_. 

Jon felt himself begin to shiver. He looked down realizing he was standing naked in front of hundreds of people. His hands quickly came to cover his manhood.

Davos quickly rushed to his side and draped a heavy woolen cloak over his shoulders, mindful of the little dragon on his shoulder and the direwolf at his side. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you… and your little friend,” he added, gesturing to the dragon that had poked his head out from under the cloak, “inside and by the fire.” 

Jon nodded in agreement, too confused to speak. 

“Alright, easy does it.” The Onion Knight instructed him, coming to his side and wrapping his arm around Jon’s waist when he stumbled over his own feet. “One step at a time, okay.”

Jon nodded again. He was thankful for the support Ser Davos and Ghost were giving to him- Jon was certain if he did not have their assistance, he would have fallen flat on his arse in front of everyone. 

_What the fuck is going on?_ He thought he, Ser Davos and Ghost slowly made their way towards the rickety wooden stairs that led to the Lord Commander’s, _his,_ chambers.

 _“I am rectifying a mistake,”_ a voice answered. 

Jon knew that voice. It was the same voice he had heard beyond the Wall, just before he was incinerated by Drogon’s flames. “ _Grandfather Aerys? Why are you still in my mind? I thought you would have been in the seven hells with me? Why am I back at Castle Black? Am I not in the seven hells?” Jon rambled to the voice inside his head._

_“You are not in one of the seven hells,” Aerys confirmed. “You have been sent back to Castle Black, just after your resurrection…”_

_“I don’t understand?” Jon interrupted the voice. “Why am I here? I should be in one the hells.”_

_“As I told you beyond the Wall, by accepting who you were born to be, you have been given a chance to make things right. The chance to restore House Targaryen and be the King you were always meant to become… Jon Snow died in the flames of the pyre and Aegon Targaryen, the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, the Grandson of Aerys II Targaryen and Rickard Stark, emerged and arose from the ashes. Never forget that the blood of Old Valyria and the First Men of Westeros runs through your veins. Never forget that you are a Stark and a Targaryen; you are a Dragon Wolf and the Dragon Wolf has risen.”_

When they reached the staircase, a hooded figure pushing past people as he made his way through the thick crowd in the courtyard caught Jon’s eyes. It was a figure he had not seen in years. Not since the man gave his life to save him from the horde of wights that was trying to kill him beyond the wall during Tyrion’s idiotic excursion to obtain a wight so they could convince his sister there was a fight more important than the Iron Throne. _Uncle Benjen_ , Jon thought as a gasp left his lips. Nothing was making sense. “I don’t,” Jon croaked, but the words died in his throat. His mouth parched. 

“It’s alright, lad. Don’t speak yet,” Davos said sympathetically. “I know things are confusing. We’ll talk once we get you in front of the fire and something warm to eat and drink. Now, take these steps one at a time. Hold onto your wolf with one hand and the railing with the other. I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let you fall.” 

Jon nodded, remaining silent, trying to pay attention as he took the step one at a time, but his mind was racing. _The last time I woke up on a cold table in my chambers. My body was not kissed by the flames of a funeral pyre._

_“Well my grandson, you see, I am here to clean up your mess,” Aerys answered. “When you declared you would do anything to change the mistakes you made in the past, the gods were pleased. They have answered your call. Now stop being a broody little shit and stop questioning everything that has happened. I will explain later, right now, you need to rest and regain your strength… But know this, everything that has happened, everything that I was able to change, will make it easier for us to conquer the seven kingdoms and restore our family name.”_

Jon wanted to ask his grandfather what else had changed. He was already aware of some changes… In the past, he never had his own dragon hatchling. At this time, his Great Uncle Aemon had passed away. His Uncle Benjen was lost somewhere beyond the wall. He needed answers, but apparently, he was going to have to wait.

A few minutes later, Jon was sitting in an old wooden chair next to a roaring fire in his chambers. Ghost was curled up, sleeping on a fur in front of the hearth and the tiny silver dragon was curled up in the fur on Ghost’s back. He looked at his two nearly extinct loyal companions as he sipped on a warm cup of tasteless broth and tried to wrap his head around what had occurred. All he knew was he had been banished to the Wall by his _cousins_ and the people he thought cared about him for doing what they asked of him to ensure their safety - _to ensure they stayed in power_. Would he still be considered a kinslayer in the eyes of the gods, even though in this life he had not killed Dany? Was Dany safe? Had Aerys been able to change anything that had occurred in Dany’s past? Was she still married to Drogo? Was Viserys alive? Were any of his Stark relatives alive? 

“Are you alright lad?” Ser Davos inquired, clearly concerned as he knelt down before him and looked him in the eyes. “Are you warm enough? Do you need another blanket? More broth?”

“I’m fine,” Jon answered, his voice still hoarse from disuse. “Just trying to wrap my head around it… I was dead.” 

“Aye,” Davos nodded. “And now you're not… Never in my life have I seen someone walk out of the flames, unburnt with a baby dragon… Several years ago, I heard stories from a sailor in Qarth, saying he saw a Targaryen girl do such a thing, but I thought it was just a story that had been made up...”

“Dany?” Jon croaked, but apparently Davos did not hear him.

“This is bloody mad lad. When Maester Aemon suggested putting the old dragon egg in your fire, I thought it was foolish. But he was adamant. He said there was power in the egg. I thought that maybe he thought the connection to the blood of kings would somehow breath life back into your lungs… I never expected the old stone to...

“Ser Davos,” the red woman interrupted walking into the room with Maester Aemon at her side. “I must speak with him.”

The Onion Knight nodded. He got up from his crouching position to take to old Maester’s hand. Jon stared at the Maester for a moment. Something about him was different. But before Jon could put his finger on it, Melisandre was bending down, and took his head in her hand. She was staring at him with a sense of wonder and awe. It was as if something about his eyes had changed.

“What did you see when you died?” she finally asked

Jon looked her in the eyes, then glanced over at Maester Aemon and Ser Davos, who were also staring at him, wanting to know the answer to the Red Witch’s question.

“The truth,” Jon answered after a few moments of silence. “I saw it all.”

“What do you mean?” Melisandre inquired, the flames of the fire reflecting in her iris, making her eyes look red.

Jon was silent for a moment. He was wondering if he could trust these three with the truth. Maester Aemon had been gone at this point, but he knew the Maester had always given him sound counsel and could be trusted. Ser Davos had been his closest confidant and supporter in his past life… However he was unsure about the Red Witch. She had been helpful in the Battle for the Dawn - if not for her lighting the Dothraki’s weapons and the trenches, many more lives could have been lost. He knew would need all of them if he was to right the wrongs of his past. 

He took a deep breath and began, leaving out certain things that might cause a rift between Davos and the Red Witch - he would talk to Melisandre about that in private. 

###  **Meereen…….**

_Rhaegal? Is that you boy?_

The voice sounded familiar. He knew that voice. It was his rider. _Father…_

_Rhaegal can you hear me? Where are you? Why are you in the hells? If you are here, come to me. I need you._

_I am breaking free. I will come for you, Father. I will protect you._

“I'm friends with your mother,” A little man holding a torch announced as he approached him and his brother, Viserion. 

Rhaegal growled and so did his younger brother.

“I'm here to help,” the man continued. “Don't eat the help… I am here to set you free so you can find your mother. She is missing.”

The green and bronze dragon did not trust the child sized man that claimed he was a friend of their mother. He could tell his brother did not like the little man either. The dwarf, who called himself Tyrion, smelled funny… He smelled like sour sweet wine and the women that lived in the building his mother called a brothel... If the man who claimed to be his mother’s _friend_ had not been there to set him and his brother free, he would have eaten him in one bite. It was not nice to touch a dragon, especially when you did not have the blood of the dragon running through your veins. 

The moment his metal collar fell to the floor, Rhaegal knew he needed to get away. He was finally free from the chains that had kept him bound under the Great Pyramid for so long. So, ran as fast as he could, out of the catacombs, up the stone stairs, and out of the massive door way. Once he was met by the warm night time air of Meereen, he took to the star covered sky. 

It felt good to stretch his wings after mother was forced to lock him and his brother away. as he waited for his brother to join him. Rhaegal wanted to leave right away. knew it would not take long, but he needed to let his brother know that 

When Viserion joined they roared in satisfaction - each of them shooting torrents of hot orange flames into the sky, announcing the return of the dragons. The two frolicked in the air for a few minutes, stretching their wings and taking lungful after lungful of fresh, warm, salty sea air.

Suddenly, Rhaegal felt another pull. He felt his rider and he felt something else. Something small and in need of guidance. _Father has a hatchling. He and the Hatchling need me. A dragon alone is a terrible thing._

As much as he wanted to stay with Viserion, and go on the quest to find mother and their older brother, Balerion, he knew he was needed elsewhere. He explained this to Viserion who told him to go. That he would make sure mother and their brother returned safely and that they would meet again.

Rhaegal then turned west as Viserion went East. The green dragon did not know exactly where he was going, but he knew he needed he had a long journey ahead of him, so the first thing he would need to do was hunt.

* * *


	3. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a conversation with an Uncle he thought lost or dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cmyatt01 - yeah, so when working on Chapter 3, we realized this made more sense to be part of chapter 2... so you are getting a little bonus chapter - enjoy.

**  
**

###    
CASTLE BLACK…. 

After Jon finished telling Ser Davos, Maester Aemon, and the Red Woman about _what he saw while he was dead_ , he was exhausted - mentally and physically. When Ser Davos asked what he planned to do next, he had told them he wished to sleep and they would discuss their options while they broke their fast in the morning. The three wished him good night and took their leave.

As soon as they left the room, the former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch bolted the door shut before turning towards the hearth, with the intention of stroking the fire before crawling under the furs for the night. When he reached the fire, he could not help the smile that tugged on his cheeks when he saw his direwolf and his dragon hatchling, cuddled together; he was thankful Ghost was already protective of his younger brother. “I think before too long that little silver guy will be taking care of you, old boy,” Jon murmured to his direwolf as he gave him a scratch behind the ears.

He then turned his attention back to the fire, and just as he finished placing a few more logs in the flames, there was a knock on the door. He figured it was Maester Aemon or Ser Davos returning to tell him a bit of news or because they had forgotten something. However, when he opened the door, there was a hooded figure, facing the wall in the hallway. He was about to tell whoever it was to go talk to Edd, but then the figure turned around and lowered his hood.

Jon gasped in disbelief and stood in the doorway dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open. He thought the fleeting figure he had seen in the courtyard earlier had been a figment of his imagination. He was wrong. Standing on the other side of the door was one of the only people ever to treat him like a person, rather than an unwanted bastard, It was a man he believed to be dead or at least lost somewhere on the other side of the Wall, trying to single handedly fight the army of the dead - his Uncle Benjen Stark. _I guess Grandfather Aerys was somehow able to return my uncle to me._

“So, are you just gonna stand there like you have seen a ghost, or can your uncle get a hug?” he smirked. 

“Seven hells, Uncle Benjen!” Jon exclaimed as he embraced his lost uncle. “Gods I missed you… I thought you were dead.”

“I missed you too, Aegon,” Benjen whispered into his ear.

Jon pulled out of his uncle’s arms and he stared at the other man in disbelief. There were a myriad of emotions running through his mind. Of course there was happiness. There was confusion. Anger. He could not believe his Uncle Benjen knew the truth about his birth, and never told him. “You knew?” he finally choked out.

“Aye, I knew the second Ned placed you in my arms for the first time,” Benjen admitted. “And it appears that you already know as well.” 

Jon nodded, but could not find words to reply. His mind still trying to comprehend that not only was he lied to by the man he called Father, but his uncle as well.

“It seems we both have quite a few questions. If you let me in, I can explain everything I know… And maybe you could answer a few questions I have as well.”

“Aye,” Jon muttered, finding his voice as he stepped aside to allow his uncle entry. “It appears we have much to discuss.”

After pouring two horns of ale for him and his uncle, the two men sat down in the chairs by the roaring fire. Both men were sipping their ale, and the silence between them was deafening. 

“Ghost has really grown,” Benjen said after a few minutes, breaking the ice between them.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew about my mother,” Jon replied, not addressing his uncle’s previous statement. He needed to know. He needed to know why he and his Uncle Ned had allowed him to waste away at the Wall. _Had it been their plan all along? For me to live my life, not knowing who I was so the Targaryen name would die out and they would not be kinslayers?_

“I was supposed to tell you and your Great Uncle Aemon everything… But I never got the chance,” Benjen answered softly, his eyes looking at the flames in the hearth. “Ned and I never intended for you to take your vows.”

Jon felt all the air leave his lungs as though he had been punched in the gut. “What do you mean I was never supposed to take my vows? That you never had the chance to tell me the truth?” He could feel his Targaryen temper starting to flare. “It took us nearly a moon turn to travel from Winterfell to Castle Black… You had plenty of time to tell me.” Jon said through gritted teeth, unable to mask the bitterness of his tone.

“It would not have been safe for me to tell you on the road,” his uncle replied. “You know this. You know there were too many people with us. Too many ears. Tyrion Lannister was traveling with us. If he had overheard…” 

“If he had overheard, he would have told his family or the King. If that had happened, I would have been killed and all the Starks would have been slaughtered. The North would have been slaughtered,” Jon continued where his uncle had ended.

“Aye,” Benjen nodded. “I had planned to tell you and Maester Aemon as soon as the Lannister imp left, but I had to oversee the ranging mission… We were only supposed to be gone a fortnight. Lord Commander Mormont promised me he would not let you take your vows before I returned. But then we were attacked by a White Walker and a group of wights and.. And it took me a lot longer to get back than I planned… I was supposed to support you and to tell you our plan. Ned asked me to watch over you and keep you safe until the last remaining member of your Kingsguard could get here to retrieve you.”

Nothing his Uncle was staying was making sense. Everything was so different. _Plan? Watch over me? Kingsguard?_ “I don’t understand.”

His uncle then told him something quite different than he recalled from his previous life. Benjen told him how Ser Arthur was injured, but survived the battle at the Tower of Joy - that when they heard Lyanna’s screams from the top of the tower stairs, Uncle Ned, Ser Arthur and Howland Reed laid down their weapons and rushed to her. His mother had not survived his birth, but before she died, she made all three of the men promise to keep her son safe and to help him prepare for the Great War Rhaegar said was coming. Therefore, the men went to Starfall. They devised a plan. They knew Ser Arthur was very recognisable and it would not be safe for him to travel North with Ned and Howland - so, they faked his death and he stayed at Starfall to heal from his injuries and to wait until the time was right to return to his King’s side. 

Jon could not believe it. The infamous sword of the morning survived. He had been in hiding for nearly twenty years. “If that is true, why did Ser Arthur not come for me?” 

“As you know, Jon Arryn’s death was quick and unexpected. By the time Ned received word Robert Baratheon was coming North, the royal procession was well on its way - He did not have time to send a messenger to Dorne to notify Ser Arthur it was time… and sending a raven south would have been too risky. Therefore, he sent word to the Wall for me to come to Winterfell. Ned Never requested I come, so I knew something had happened.”

Benjen paused to take a long sip from his ale. Jon remained quiet, still trying to process what his Uncle had just told him.

“When I got the Winterfell, Ned asked if I would take you to the Wall with me… He loved you like you were his own son. He wanted so badly to tell you about your mother, but with the King and the Lannisters there, he knew it was not safe, so he asked me to tell you the truth about your mother, and watch over you until Ser Arthur arrived… But I never got the chance to. I am so sorry I failed you.”

Jon could feel the tears beginning to burn in his eyes and was unable to stop them from falling. _Ned really did love me. He did want to keep me safe. He never intended for me to waste away at the Wall._ “You did not fail me,” Jon replied as he wiped his eyes. “I know that if you would have been here you would have kept the promise you made to my Father... But where have you been all this time?”

His uncle then told him that when he and the ranging party was attacked, he was hit on the head and left for dead. When he awoke he was alone, he did not remember much - he knew he was Benjen Stark of Winterfell, but he did not know where he was or why he was dressed as a brother of the Night’s Watch. There was no one there. There were no horses, so he walked and walked. He did not know how long he walked when he was found by the Children of the Forest. They took him to a Great Weirwood Tree, treated his injuries, and then Three Eyed Raven helped him to remember who he was and what he was supposed to do. 

“After I had healed, I wanted to find you. The Three Eyed Raven told me you were leading a group of men to Craster’s Keep to avenge the death of Lord Commander Mormont… But he asked a favor of me before I reunited with you.”

“What was that?” Jon inquired. _Gods, I really could have used his help and guidance._

“He wanted me to escort Bran, Howland Reed’s two children, Meera and Jojen, and Hodor to the Weirwood Tree, so Bran could begin his training.”

“I don’t understand? Why would he tell you where I was, just for you to go somewhere else.”

“Because, your brother and his friends were at Craster’s.”

“What?” he breathed out in disbelief. “No they weren't, I would have seen them. I would have brought them all back to the Wall where they would have been safe.”

Benjen then explained how the four of them had been captured and were tied up in one of the storage buildings in the rear of the property. Also, Bran knew if you were aware of his presence, you would have taken him to the Wall, and he never would have begun his training. His uncle also informed him that as they were leaving, they were able to free Ghost and Summer, who had been pinned up in one of the other buildings on the property.

“Seven hells,” Jon muttered, running his hand down his face as he recalled the events of that night. He glanced over at his loyal direwolf companion to see him still sleeping by the fire with his baby dragon. “I didn’t even know Ghost was there… I should have… I could feel him close by, I thought that we had just found each other. I did not know he had been held captive all that time… Thank you for returning him to me.”

“I knew the wolf belonged with you and that you needed him and he needed you… I just wish I could have gotten back to you sooner.”

Jon could hear the regret in his uncle’s tone. He reached out and squeezed his uncle’s shoulder, letting him know it was okay. “I know you came as soon as you could. But if you don’t mind, could you tell me…If you left the night I attacked the mutineers at Craster’s Keep, what took you so long to get back to the Wall?”

“It is a long journey to the Great Weirwood,” Benjen laughed. “And when one of the people has to be carried, it takes even longer… Also, we were attacked by the army of the dead just as we arrived at the Great Weirwood…”

“Jojen didn’t make it?” Jon stated, remembering that Bran had told him Hodor and Jojen had both died beyond the Wall.

“Last I checked the little greenseer was very much alive.” Benjen said with a furrowed brow. “It was because of his ability to see glimpses of the future that we survived. He was able to warn us of the pending attack. He saved all of our lives.”

Jon could not believe it. Something else had changed. 

His Uncle gave him a perplexing look before continuing his story. Benjen told him that he rested for a few weeks at the Three Eyed Raven’s Weirwood before heading back towards the Wall. However, just as he was about to arrive, he received a message from the Three Eyed Raven that Jon had traveled to Hardhome. He feared if he were to arrive at Castle Black without Jon present, Thorne would have killed him as a traitor. So, he traveled to the Night Fort and crossed through the Black Gate. Then, as soon as he arrived at the Wildling camp, he heard of Jon’s death. He had to see it for himself, and traveled with them for Jon’s funnel pyre. “Needless to say, I was quite shocked to see you walk out of the flames with a baby dragon.”

“Aye, I wasn’t expecting it either,” Jon laughed, finishing his horn of ale. 

He got up, refilled both their cups and made his way back to the chair by the fire.

“So, how did you find out the truth about your birth?” Benjen asked as he took his horn from Jon.

“It’s a long story… And I’m not sure you are going to believe me.”

“Son, I have seen things I never imagined to be possible over the last five years… Including seeing you rise from the dead. I am sure I will believe whatever it is you have to say.”

Jon could not find fault in his uncle’s logic, so he told him all the events - from his time at the Wall, to his resurrection, to reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons, to meeting and falling in love with Daenerys to the fallout after learning the truth about who he was. He was also honest about Sansa’s betrayal, how he had been manipulated to kill Dany and how the Starks sent him to the Wall to rot. He even told him about the voice inside his head.

Benjen believed it all.

“You don’t think I’m mad, do you?”

“No my boy. I think this is a blessing from all the gods. You have been given a chance to be the man you were born to be. You have been given a second chance to fulfil your destiny.”

“Think you,” Jon said sincerely, overwhelmed by his uncle’s support.

“You just tell me what your plan is, and I will be there to assist and guide you in any way that I can.”

“I will tell you the plan in the morning. Tomorrow will be a big day. Tonight, we need to rest.”

His uncle then left him alone with his dragon and his direwolf. _I really need to come up with a name for that little,_ Jon thought, looking at his sleeping magical creatures before he put another log on the fire. After the fire was once again roaring, he barely made it to his bed, before he collapsed atop the furs and sleep consumed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter. We have read them all, but I have not had a chance to answer them just yet. 
> 
> Again - THANK YOU SO MUCH ❤️


	4. The Journey of a Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany's Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this ended up being A LOT Longer than we planned and hopefully it will answer lots of your questions. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

* * *

### 

**THE GREAT GRASS SEA**  


### 

Daenerys Targaryen felt as though she were dying.

At times during the past few weeks, she had longed for death’s warm embrace, _ Death would probably be better than my current fate _ . However, it was as though the Dothraki men who captured - took her - were giving her just enough food and drink to keep her alive. And each day she awoke and they continued on their never ending journey.

The sun overhead was burning, her exposed skin red and blistered. Her dress had once been white, but now the silky material had multiple rips and tears from where it had gotten snagged on bushes and shrubs and it was covered in stains from sleeping on dirt and grass. Her bare feet were ripped and bleeding - they ached and burned and throbbed from the weeks and weeks of walking. Her mouth was parched and her stomach twisted with knots of hunger

When she had first been taken from the Great Pit of Daznak on the eve of her wedding to the Meereenese Noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, she had demanded the men to release her. She was the Queen of Meereen and she was needed by her people so they did not fall back into chains. She asked what they wanted in exchange for her release. The men laughed at her in response. They killed the man that was to be her husband before her eyes,  _ not that I wanted to marry him anyway. _ They spat on her. They smacked her across the face, causing her lip to bleed and her eye to swell. In their guttural, throaty language, they called her the Khal’s promised pale whore and that they could not wait until she bore him _ the Stallion that will mount the World _ , so they could take their turn mounting her as well. 

Daenerys had been revolted by their crass words. She wanted to retort in their own tongue, but she knew it was best to keep quiet.  _ They do not know I understand them. _ She had wanted to fight back, but her dragons were not with her and she had no weapons. And even if she still had the dagger she normally kept in a holster on her thigh, she would not have been able to reach it or wield it because her hands were tightly secured behind her back with rope.

As much as she hated it, as much as it went against every fiber of her being, she knew it was best to do and say nothing until they got to wherever it was they were going. She also knew she could use her understanding of the Dothraki language to her advantage; she knew she could eavesdrop on their conversations like she had done to the Masters in Astapor.

So she kept quiet and for the most part, so did the group of several dozen men who held her hostage. During their travel, she learned the men were taking her to the man her brother promised her to years ago, Khal Drogo in Vaes Dothrak. That he Dothraki had been contacted by the Son of the Harpy - the Slave Masters had heard the stories about how she had disappeared in the middle of the night, less than a sennight before she was to be sold to a Dothraki Khal, and that the Khal was still searching for his prize. The Sons of the Harpy believed once she was removed from Meereen, the city would fall and they could return to their past ways. So they joined forces so both could get what they wanted. _ The Khal gets his Khaleesi and Meereen is free of the Dragon Whore. _

Dany did not believe in any gods per se, but prayed to any gods that were listening that her armies were able to hold Meereen and it did not fall in her absence. She also asked that her friends and advisors - Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Missandei, Grey Worm, Lord Tyrion, Varys, and even the pompous but loyal, blue haired sellsword Daario - were all safe. 

She kept her face impassive. Queens did not show fear. Queens did not cry. She did her best to hold her head up high on her shoulders and not cave or beg. But inside, she felt as though she was again the same sacred little girl she had been five years ago when Ser Jorah helped her to escape from being sold to the Dothraki in exchange for an army.

So instead of focusing on her fear, she thought of her childhood and all of the events that had helped to shape her into the queen she had become. 

As a young girl, her life had been wonderful. She lived in a house with a red door in Braavos. She loved the salty sea air and the fresh seafood and the markets. She also loved the garden at their home; she would spend hours playing games there with her older brother, Viserys. Other times, they would sit under the lemon tree that was just outside of her bedroom window, and eat cakes or fruit as he read to her from one of the books he brought from Dragonstone… Her favorite was the tale of the Long Night. He would also sometimes climb into bed with her at night and tell her all about the history of their family and about life in Westeros. He vowed to her one day they would be able to return home and she would be his queen. He made her feel safe and loved.

Then, one day, their blissful life was shattered. Their caretaker who had saved them from the Usurper’s navy, Ser Willem Darry, died of a sudden illness. The servants at the home were quick to abandon them, stealing most of their gold, jewels, and riches as they left. They were able to salvage a few items of worth, including their Mother’s crown before she and Viserys were forced to live on the streets as beggars. Viserys had done his best to keep her safe and sheltered, but even though he wore a brave face, she could tell he was scared.

They were never able to stay anywhere for long, always running from city to city to stay away from assassins sent by the late King Robert Baratheon. Vis would tell her Robert was trying to kill them because he was scared of them… because as long as they were alive, his reign would not be secure. He also told her there were so many Targaryen loyalists that wanted to bring them home because the usurper was drinking and whoring the Seven Kingdoms into financial ruin. However, all Dany really wanted was to be safe. She longed for the days in the garden of their house in Braavos with the red door.

After years on the run and having to sell all of their valuables and family heirlooms, Viserys started to become bitter. He was tired of running and begging, of not being able to spend more than a few days or a week in one place without fear of being caught... and so was she. All she wanted was a place to call home and her brother to not have to worry about their safety every second of every day. 

Then one day, after being on the run for nearly ten years, she thought their luck had turned. They were taken in by a Targaryen loyalist in Pentos, a Magister named Illyrio Mopatis and for the first time in years she had a full belly, clean water to bathe in, and fresh clothes that fit properly and handmaidens to help her prepare each day. She finally felt like the princess Viserys told her she had been born. 

This was also where she met her Old Bear, Ser Jorah Mormont. Illyrio assigned him as her personal guard and with him by her side, she was able to go to the markets without fear of being kidnapped by Robert’s assassins or having to beg for a few crumbs of food.

Life was returning to that which she remembered while growing up in Braavos; even Viserys was becoming the brother she remembered as a young child. They would sit in the gardens, drink wine and eat sweets. He would tell her how the Magister told her the people of Westeros were drinking secret toasts to their health and that with Illyrio’s help, he would soon be able to take his place as the rightful King of Westeros.

However, the change in Viserys demeanor was short-lived. 

A few moon turns after they arrived, her brother attended a closed door meeting with the Magister and who she later learned were the heads of the Golden Company. The meeting did not go did not go as Viserys wished. They declined to make a contract with Viserys. 

After the Golden Company refused his call, Viserys became angry. He came into her rooms and blamed her because if he had not been forced to sell their mother’s crown to feed her, he would have had the money to pay for the services of the greatest Sellsword Army. When Dany said it wasn’t her fault, he smacked her across the face and told her she better behave and do her part or she would,  **_“Wake the Dragon.”_ **

Dany tried her best to stay away from her brother after that. She would spend time hiding in the gardens, reading, or dreaming about where she had a loving family. Of the life, she would have had if the Rebellion had never occurred and the Targaryens still were the ruling family of Westeros.

However, one day his happy demeanor returned. He entered her chambers with a true smile. He called her sweet sister, and grinned from ear to ear the entire time he informed her Illyrio had helped him to secure an army… And in order to get this army of over 40,000 warriors, all  **_she_ ** had to do was marry their leader, a skilled Dothraki warrior named Khal Drogo. 

She was scared. She did not want to marry the man her brother chose for her. She had heard stories from some of the kitchen maids about how the Dothraki were savage people, who raped and reaved wherever they went, but she smiled and nodded and assured her brother she would do her duty so they could return home. 

However the second the door clicked shut she broke down. Ser Jorah, who had been by her side since she arrived at the extravagant Pentoshi manse, was quickly by her side to comfort her. Her Old Bear told her not to worry and that he would protect her no matter what.

A moon turn later, her brother forced her to wear a sheer, pale iliac gown and the Dothraki Khal showed up at the courtyard to  **_inspect his payment_ ** . She remembered feeling naked and vulnerable as the large beast of a man eyed her as a man examining a horse he was contemplating purchasing. After he grunted in approval, her brother and Illyrio determined she would marry the man in a fortnight.

After she was back in the safety of her chambers, she confided in Ser Jorah that she did not want to be used as a pawn in her brother’s war to reclaim what he said was theirs. She was getting to the point she was not even sure she wanted to return to Westeros. All she wanted was to be safe and to be loved. He held her as she cried herself to sleep.

A sennight later, Ser Jorah came to her sleeping chambers in the middle of the night carrying a burlap sack. He told her he had come up with a plan. He had found a ship and if they were to be on it, they had to leave right then. She climbed out of bed without a word, he covered her in a dark green cloak. They quickly made their way to the docks and boarded a ship, leaving Pentos and her brother behind.

While on the ship, Dany learned Ser Jorah had stolen three stone dragon eggs when they escaped. Apparently, the Magister had planned to give them to her at her wedding as a gift. Jorah said he did not know why, but he felt the eggs belonged with her. Daenerys had been grateful. She slept with the eggs every night and she could feel a flicker of life within them. She did not know how, but she dreamed that one day she would be able to free them from their stone chains. 

She and her knight traversed throughout the free cities but they never felt safe. They heard stories from sailors and in the markets about how the Targaryen girl was killed in a fit of rage by her mad older brother. The Dothraki had been enraged at him over her death, stating he had destroyed a sacred omen sent by the Great Stallion. They burned down the guest chambers of Illyrio’s manse in anger. Some said her brother died in the fire, others say he was taken by the Dothraki to Vaes Dothrak, where he had been executed and sacrificed to their god. 

She had felt sadness over her brother’s demise but she could not bring herself to cry. She mourned for the kind brother she had known as a child. but she did not miss the bitter man he had become. She would always love her brother dearly and be thankful for all those years he kept her safe, but she was glad the madness in him was finally put to rest and could no longer bring her harm.

After over a year of running, she and her Old Bear had found refuge in an ancient port city on the southern coast of Essos named Qarth. Jorah had found work with a member of the  _ Thirteen,  _ a merchant prince named Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Dany did not much care for the man. He had suggested more than once a marriage between the two of them but thankfully, Ser Jorah informed him she was not interested in a marriage and that she was far too young to marry.

One day, while walking through the markets with one of Xaro’s chambermaids, a woman named Doreah, she was confronted by a man named Pyat Pree, a warlock with blue lips, who resided at the House of the Undying. Daenerys could see how much Doreah was disturbed by the man, and she had felt a sense of unease around him as well, so she quickly and politely ended their conversation… However, as the two girls began to walk away, he knew how she could hatch her eggs. He told her to come to him that night, alone, and her children would awaken from their stone imprisonments.

She had been shocked, the only people who knew about the dragon eggs were her and Jorah as she had kept them in a locked wooden box. When she turned to ask how he knew, the man was gone. That night, she gathered her eggs, snuck out of the Merchant Prince’s home, and under the cloak of darkness, she made her way to the House of the Undying Ones.

When she arrived at the towerless, windowless, ancient grey stone ruin on the outskirts of the city, she thought for a moment this was a mistake. The building itself was eerie and caused a shiver to rush down her spine. It was a long, low structure that coiled like a serpent through a grove of black-barked trees. The majority of black tiles covering the roof were missing or broken and the mortar between the stones holding the building together was dry and crumbling. 

She was about to turn and leave when she was greeted by the mysterious warlock that had confronted her in the market. He escorted her to a tall oval door that looked similar to the face of a human. Before she entered, he informed her there would be four doors; the door she just came through and three others, and in order to reach the Undying - the ones who would help her wake her dragons - she must always take the first door on the right and the stairs that went up. He also told her she was not to enter any room until reaching the audience chamber containing the undying ones. Then when leaving, again she would always take the first door to the right and the stairs that went up.

Once she acknowledged his directions, Pyat Pree handed her a slender crystal glass, filled to the brim with a thick, dark liquid. She made to protest, afraid it was poison, but he told her in order to  _ “hear and see the truths”  _ that will be laid out before her she had to drink the entire cup of  _ Shade of the Evening _ . Feeling the energy in the bag containing her eggs, knowing they wanted to be freed, she agreed, quickly drinking the contents of the cup. 

When she went to hand the empty glass to the warlock, he was nowhere in sight. So, she took a deep breath and entered through the oval, face shaped door. The door emptied into an oval shaped room, lit by several torches that lined the wall, and just as the man described, the room contained four doors - the one she had entered through and three others. She took one of the torches from the wall and went through the door on the right. She continued this pattern several times until she entered a square shaped room with six doors - following the directions given to her, she takes the first door on the right. However, when she entered the room seemed to be a never ending hall with only doors on the left. She was angry. She felt deceived and if it had not been for the life she felt burning in the three dragon eggs she carried in the sack on her back she would have turned around and left the wretched building.

As she continues down the hall, she notices all the doors on the left are opened wide. In one room she saw a woman who looked similar to her, brushing her long silver gold hair. On the side of the table, she saw her mother’s crown. Dany had wanted to enter but knew that it was only a figment of her imagination and so she continued down the hall. In another door, she saw a man that looked similar to Viserys, but his features were softer. The man was giving a knight in Targaryen armor a sword that had a dragon on the pommel and a ruby in the center of the guard.  _ “Protect this sword and my wife with your life my friend. If I do not return, please ensure my daughter receives this sword and teach her to use it. Let her know she was destined to wield this sword, just as her namesake before her.” _

Dany had wanted to enter the room, but again she pressed on. 

Suddenly, the people in the rooms began calling her name. Telling her to enter the room and come to them. Her heart began to race and started running, ignoring the voices and the open all of the doors; she was terrified of what would happen if she entered into any one of the chambers.

Finally, she saw a doorway on the right and she quickly went through it to find a staircase. She rushed up the stairs and found herself in a gloomy chamber with a long stone table with dozens of _undying ones_ seated at it in the back of the room. Floating on a pale gray circular stone in the center of the room was a swollen, rotting, heart that was still beating. She heard whispers telling her to place the eggs on the stone and as if she were in a trance, she did as the voice bid. Once the stone eggs were on the slab the heart began to beat harder. The heart began to glow with a sinister blue light. Dany could not take her eyes off the glow - it surrounded the eggs and engulfed her. She then began to hear chanting from the Undying ones - they called her calling her the **_Mother of Dragons_** _,_ the **_child of three_** _,_ the **_lost princess_**.

At first, she felt power from the light; no longer feeling like the meek princess she had been for her entire life. Then suddenly she began to see visions. She saw a command from a wild Valyrian man with wild eyes, stringy, dirty hair, and long untrimmed fingernails, sitting on a throne of swords, giving a command to **_Burn them all._** She saw a young version of herself and Viserys, sitting under the lemon tree at the house in Braavos. She then saw a form of Viserys, he looked haggard and dirty and sad, wiping tears from his eyes. She then saw what she believed to be the great Wall that separated Westeros from whatever was beyond it. She walked into the courtyard and saw a white wolf, staining the snow crimson as blood flowed freely from a stab wound in its chest. Just above the creature was a hastily made wooden sign with the word **_TRAITOR_** written in blood. She felt pulled to reach out to the creature, to comfort it as it tooks it’s dying breaths. However, suddenly the wolf burst into flames and she had to shield her eyes with her forearm.

When she was able to open her eyes, she saw a silver dragon with the white wolf’s head rising from the ashes. It looked at her with intelligent red eyes and in an accented male voice she thought similar to Ser Jorah's, she heard, **_“It is time to wake the Dragon within.”_** Not even a second later, it was opening its mouth and she was engulfed with it’s flames. The flames twisted and turned and danced all around her as she absorbed their warmth and power. Her head turned when she heard the cracking of stone. She could feel her eyes widen with shock when the heart that had been on flat round stone exploded in a burst blue flames. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the three stone eggs were cracked open and three small dragons sat in the shells and surrounding her was nothing but a wall of flames.

She quickly gathered the three baby dragons. When she did, she noticed she was alone in the room. The stone table was gone. The Warlocks were gone. As fast as she could, she rushed out of the room, down a serpentine passageway that seemed to crumble behind her with each step she took. After what felt like and eternity, she saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Once she stepped outside, Ser Jorah was there, he quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as he unsheathed his sword. The last thing she saw, before the House of the Undying collapsed into a mound of pale stones was Pyat Pree with his bowls in the dirt, bleeding to death in the dirt just a few feet from her.

After bringing her children, who she named Viserion. Rhaegal and Balerion, to life, she and Ser Jorah knew it was no longer safe for them to stay in Qarth; it was only a matter of time before the world heard what had happened at the House of the Undying. 

So, the next morning, they asked Xaro if they could buy passage on one of his ships that was leaving the port that day. He refused, but offered to give her a ship exchange for one of her dragons. Dany refused to part with any of her children and they packed their meager belongings and went to the docks in hopes of seeking passage on any of the other ships leaving the harbor that day. However, every captain in the city refused to allow them on their vessels. At first she thought they feared her dragons would burn the ship down, but she had been very wrong. Apparently, the news of her being responsible for the destruction of the House of the Undying had spread through Quath like wildfire and no one was willing to take them on their ship out of fear of the wrath of any of the remaining warlocks. 

Despondent, Dany and Jorah made their way to one of the inns near the port to get a meal and discuss their next steps. As they waited for their meal to arrive, they began to consider their options. They could travel west to along the coast to the city Qarkash or East to Asabahd - from one of those cities, they might be able to buy passage to Sothoryos. Or they could take a chance and go through the Red Waste to Lhazar or try and make their way to Yi Ti or the Shadowlands. 

As they were trying to decide on a plan, they were approached by two men. Jorah’s hand immediately went to the pommel of his sword. Dany recognized one of the men - the large man with no hair and nut-brown skin had been one of the guards at Illyrio’s manse was called Strong Belwas. She did not recognize the white haired man, but quickly learned he was Ser Barristan Selmy. At first she was scared that Robert Baratheon had found her and sent a member of his Kingsgurad to kill her and she knew Jorah had thought this as well. However, the man quickly explained King Robert was dead and he was no longer in the Kingsguard, and he and Belwas had been sent there by Illyrio to bring her back to Pentos. Dany was skeptical and she could tell her old Bear was as well, but they had no other choice, so they agreed.

Once they were at sea, Daenerys took the opportunity to speak with Belwas and Ser Barristan, in hopes to learn their true intentions. 

Belwas told Dany about life in Pentos since she had vanished. It had been believed she and Ser Jorah had been kidnapped during the middle of the night and taken to Westeros to answer for her father’s crimes. Apparently the night she left, Viserys and Belwas were at one of the local brothels, but Viserys’ room had been ransacked, so it was believed whoever took her had wanted to take her brother as well. When the Dothraki Khal learned she had been taken he was furious. He and several hundred of his men came to the manse in the middle of the night and set the rooms that had been occupied by her brother aflame. The fire had been so hot that even his bones had turned to ash. He said everyone in the manse, especially Illyrio wept for the loss of her brother, but held out hope for her safety because no word had come from Westeros about her execution. Then, when Illyrio heard whispers that she was alive, and traveling throughout Essos, he wanted to bring her home to his manse, where she would be safe; that the  _ fat man with sweet stink in his hair  _ believed the Dothraki were still looking for her so he sent him to get her.

Ser Barristan informs her and Ser Jorah that King Joffrey ordered the execution of Lord Eddard Stark, the former Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon, after he claimed all three of Cersei’s children were bastards sired by the man who killed her father. After the death of the Warden of the North, and the fact that many people believed the claim that the king was a bastard, Westeros had descended into war. After  _ the king _ was nearly attacked, Joffrey released him from the Kingsguard because he was _ too old to protect him.  _ Varys, the usurper’s Master of Whisperers, informed him that the two Targaryen children were alive and in Pentos. He wanted him to see if Viserys was worthy of the crown. With no purpose in his life, Barristan had agreed. When he arrived at the manse, the dark smoke was still wafting from the rubble and he learned of Viserys’ demise. At first he was down, he had traveled all that way to find a worthy king but then word came that she was alive. And when Illyrio decided to send Belwas to bring her home, he asked to join the man.

After speaking, Belwas decided to go to mess hall in search of another meal. Dany took this time to speak privately with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan. Barristan admitted he did not trust Illyrio, but that Belwas seemed to genuinely care for her. Jorah also did not trust the Magister, so it was suggested, before returning to Pentos, they sail to Astapor to purchase the Unsullied slave army. She did not like the idea of owning slaves, but she knew the two knights were right - Illyrio and his intentions could not be trusted. Also, if the Dothraki were still searching for her, she would need protection. So, she agreed, and they came up with a plan to obtain the army.

During the long boat voyage, Barristan told her about serving her family. He was honest with her. He told her the truth about her father - that he had been a good and just king until he had been kidnapped. After he was freed, he had become paranoid. He saw nothing but enemies everywhere he looked. He also told her about her oldest brother, Rhaegar and that he felt Rhaegar would have been an excellent king. He told her stories about the two of them sneaking out of the castle at night, the prince would sing and play his harp in the streets. That he would donate the money he earned to the orphanages or to buy food for the poor. He also told her he did not believe Robert’s story that Rhaegar had kidnapped and raped Lady Lyanna - doing something like this was not in his character. He mused what life would have been like had Rhaegar survived and Robert died at the Battle of the Trident. Barristan also told her she reminded him of her mother, Queen Rhaella, and that he could tell had the potential to be the Queen Westeros needed.

When they arrived in Astapor, she met a rude Slave Master named Kraznys mo Nakloz at the Plaza of Pride. The man tells her about the prowess of the Unsullied - that they are gelded the moment they begin their training and that their training is only complete after they rip a babe from its mother's arms and kill it in front of her. Dany kept her face impassive to prevent vomiting on the ground, but her lack of response made the man believe she could not speak Valyrian, so he had his young scribe, a girl named Missandei translate his crass words. The girl translated his degrading statements into respectful ones. At that moment, Dany knew she would do whatever it took to free all eight thousand six hundred fully trained Unsullied soldiers, as well as the five thousand boys still in training and the sweet young translator. So it was agreed, in exchange for her ship and all the goods on it as well as the largest of her three dragons, she would receive all the slave soldiers and the scribe.

When she told her two knights and Belwas of the deal they were upset. They did not understand how they were going to get back to Pentos without their ship. However, she had a plan. The next day, after assuming the command of the Unsullied, she commanded Balerion to burn the Kraznys mo Nakloz and the soldiers to kill the rest of the slavers - but to leave all women and children unharmed. Astapor fell within minutes and one it was conquered, she freed all the slaves in her command. Grey Worm, the man the Unsullied chose as their leader, said the freed soldiers chose to follow her.

After freeing the slaves of Astapor, she left a council to rule the city and decided she needed to liberate the other slaves within Slaver’s Bay. With her new army, the ship she had was not large enough to carry them all, so she, Barristan, Jorah, Belwas and her army marched for Yunkai. By the time they arrived, word had spread about the fall of Astapor, the Yellow City had hired a sellsword company, the Second Sons, to strengthen their own army of slaves. When they arrived, she was met by Yunkish Master Grazdan mo Eraz and his guard, and a blue haired member of the Second Sons. The Master offers Daenerys several chest full of gold and jewels, but she refuses. She informs him she would not be bought like one of their slaves and that Yunkai has three days to free their slaves. If they did not, she would sack the city. The Master had been upset and promised her Yunkai would not fall. However, the blue hair man, Daario Naharis, looked impressed. 

Later that night, Daario comes to her tent with the heads of the captains of the Second Sons and pledges himself and the Second Sons to her and her cause. The next night, he helps her to attack the city. The city fell before the sun came up and she added four thousand more former slave soldiers to her army.

Next, she set her sites on the city of Meereen. While they marched, Daario tried to charm his way into her bed, but she refused each one of his advances. It’s not that she did not want to feel the love of a man because she did, but if she wanted to help others, if she wanted to be the queen Ser Barristan told her she was destined to be, she would need to marry for an alliance and if she took a lover, if she had a bastard, she would be considered tainted. That night was the first night of many that a young man with dark curly hair and the face of a shifting shadow came to her bed and made her feel loved.

However, politely refusing Daario’s advances was the least of her worries. As they marched closer to the city of Meereen, there were slave children nailed to each mile post. She counted one hundred sixty-three children in total as they traveled along the coast from Yunkai to Meereen. She saw that each of these children was removed from the post and given a proper burial. With each child removed, the fire to kill the masters that did this to them grew. 

When they arrive at the walls of Meereen, Daenerys demands they free their slaves. They refuse. That night, Daario, Jorah, Belwas, Grey Worm and a handful of chosen Unsullied and Second Sons entered the city through the sewers. Once her men were within the city, they opened the gates for her soldiers that had been camped outside the city, poured in. The slaves quickly joined her forces and as the sun came up, the Master surrendered.

Once the city was secure, she had one hundred sixty-three of the Masters nailed to post in front of the Great Pyramid as retribution for the deaths of the slave children. After taking residence in the Great Pyramid, she decided she would stay in Meereen and rule as its Queen of Meereen. When Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan asked her why, she had told them if she wanted to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms, she must first learn to become a queen. 

Ruling over an unstable city and being a mother to three rambunctious dragons was harder than Daenerys imagined. The small people came to her with their problems - they could not find work. The former masters came to her with their problems - they had no one to tend to them. She came up with the solution that the Master could hire their former slaves for a fair wage. This seemed to calm the tension in the city for a while.

Then one day, a sheep farmer came to her crying with a pile of bones, bones that had belonged to his three year old daughter. He told her how three dragons came out of the sky. The cream one and the green one had feasted on his flock, but the black one killed his daughter. Dany was heartbroken and made the decision to chain her children below the pyramid. However, she had only been able to find Rhaegal and Viserion; Balerion was nowhere to be found. 

A few moon turns after she imprisoned her dragons, two petitioners arrived in her audience chambers seeking asylum. The Dwarf of Casterly Rock, Tyrion Lannister and the former Master of Whisperers, Varys. Varys stated they fled Westeros after he helped Tyrion escape from the black cells; Tyrion had been wrongfully accused and convicted of killing King Joffrey. As they were escaping the Red Keep, Tyrion killed his father, Tywin Lannister. Dany had been weary of their story and weary of allowing them to stay, However, once their story was verified and at the council of Barristan and Jorah, she allowed the two men to advise her.

About three moons after the arrival of her new advisors, she learned Yunkai had fallen and the freed slaves that did not come with her were once again in chains. She wanted to take her armies and head back to the city she had liberated and free the people from their chains. Barristan and Jorah advised her against it but she felt responsible. Daario then stood and volunteered to lead his men to retake the city in her name. She agreed and he and the Second Sons left Meereen.

A fortnight after the Second Sons left for Yunkai, the Sons of the Harpy began attacking the freed men and women of Meereen. After moon turns of attacks, Tyrion suggested she take a Meereenese noble as her husband. Hizdahr zo Loraq was chosen, but before she married him, she wanted to make sure the union would bring peace. So an agreement was reached, the nobleman joined her council and he was given ninety days to stop the murders being committed by Harpy - if he was successful, she would take him as her husband.

Her betrothal was announced and the murders seemed to stop overnight. As a way to celebrate their upcoming union, Hizdahr suggested reopening the fighting pits. Dany did not like the idea, but he promised her only men who chose to fight would fight and men would no longer be allowed to fight to their deaths. Also, that the men would be fighting for a prize. The people of Meereen seemed to like this idea, so she agreed. 

On the eve of her wedding, the citizens of Meereen gathered at Daznak's Pit to see the first fight in the newly reopened fighting pits. She had been sitting between her betrothed and Missandei with Ser Jorah to her right, Ser Barristan to her left and Belwas and Grey Worm behind them when the chaos began. The area was suddenly over taken with men in gold masks. She watched in horror as a spear was thrown through Hizdahr’s chest. Belwas quickly grabbed her arm and tried to guide her and Missandei to the exit as the rest of her guard fought off attackers. However, before they could get to the exit, a group of Dothraki men rode into the area and hit her over the head. The next thing she knew was waking up surrounded by the men who had captured her. 

Dany did not know how long they had been traveling. She did not know if her friends and advisors had survived the attack. If they did, she wondered if they had sent anyone to look for her. 

She was grateful when the sun began to set and they stopped to make camp for the night. After being given her meager rations of salted horsemeat and a few sips of water she curled into a ball in the dirt. As she fell asleep, her comely lover with a shadowy face visited her and made her feel loved and alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References for this Chapter:
> 
>   * [House of the Undying](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/House_of_the_Undying)
>   * [Daenerys Targaryen ](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Daenerys_Targaryen)
>   * [Belwas](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Belwas)
> 

> 
> Many changes to Dany’s story - Jorah helped her escape before she was sold to Drogo, and she never slept with Daario (but he did try). These were the main ones. 
> 
> Would love to know what you think in the comments! (I’m trying to go back and answer ones from the last couple chapters)


	5. The Ending of a Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon discusses his immediate plans. A request is made to the Free Folk. Jon's ends the lives of those that murdered him. Then speaks with two people before retiring to his room for the last time at Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy.

****

###  **CASTLE BLACK**

The morning after his resurrection, Jon was awoken by a series of rapid knocking on the door to his chambers. He rolled out of bed, thankful he was still dressed from the night before. He made sure Longclaw was next to the door - _Things have changed. I do ever want to be caught off guard again -_ before he cracked it open to see who was on the other side. He was relieved to see it was Ser Davos, who was carrying a platter of blackened bacon, some sort of roasted meat, and crusty brown bread. Also with them were Edd, who was carrying a pitcher of ale, Melisandre, and Tormund, as well as both of his uncles. 

“Morning, your Grace,” The Onion Knight said with a smile on his face. “Brought us something to break our fast… as well as a little something for your dragon and wolf.” He added, gesturing at the roasted meat with a nod of his head. 

_Fuck, that’s right. They are coming to learn what I am planning to do next._ “Aye, thank you. Please come in,” Jon said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter. “We should all be able to fit around my desk.” 

However, it was Aemon’s eyes again catching Jon’s gaze. He could see it clearly now. No longer were Aemon’s eyes milky and white, they were clear and a dark shade of indigo. He was still leaning on his Uncle Benjen for a bit of support, but not because he could not see, but because his gait was still that of a man of over one hundred name days.

Once everyone was seated, Jon poured himself a tankard of ale and took a long slow sip as he collected his thoughts. He knew he needed to do things differently than he had in the past. He had planned on writing down a detailed plan the night before, but after his Uncle Benjen had left, he had been exhausted. 

_“Have faith in yourself, Aegon. You know what it is you have to do. I will be here to help you as best I can. Remember, you are fulfilling your destiny.”_

Jon did his best not to acknowledge his Grandfather Aerys words - he did not want them to know about the voice inside his head, guiding him - but he felt a small smile form on the corners of his lips before he was able to school his face back into his normal, broody mask.

“I believe you all have questions about what our next moves will be and about where it is we will go from here,” Jon stated.

Everybody in the room nodded. 

“Well, first off, I will be leaving the Night’s Watch.”

“But Jon, you are the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch,” Edd protested, slamming his empty wooden tankard on the desk. “You can’t just leave! You took an oath to guard the realms of men.” 

“And I gave my life. I lived and died at my post,” Jon counted with authority. “Also, Jon Snow took that vow… My name is not Jon Snow. I am not the Bastard of Winterfell. I am not even the son of Eddard Stark! My name is Aegon Targaryen, sixth of my name… The trueborn son of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his _wife_ , Lyanna Stark.”

His brother in black stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “You’ve gotta be fucking shittin’ me,” Edd deadpanned, furrowing his brow in bewilderment. 

“He speaks the truth. My nephew, Aegon, was never supposed to take the black,” Benjen said sadly. His Uncle then explained how the rebellion had been based on the lies of Robert Baratheon and how Jon was never supposed to take his vows. 

“Shit,” Edd muttered after Benjen finished confirming Jon was indeed the last trueborn son of the late crown prince. “Well, I guess if you are king of the seven kingdoms, the Watch can count on the crown for help when it is time to fight against the dead,”

“Aye, you have my word,” Jon answered. “Which leads me to what we will do with the men who participated in the mutiny.”

“I say you kill the fuckers yourself, then burn their bodies,” Tormund interjected. 

“I thought about that,” Jon acknowledged his Wildling friend. “And they definitely will see a traitor's death. However, after they are dead, instead of burning their bodies, we will put them in the ice cells.”

There were several gasps of disbelief, so Jon quickly continued. “After I have united the seven kingdoms, we need to provide proof to the realm that the dead are real… If we have wights, we will have the evidence we need to show the rest of the kingdoms just what it is we are facing. In order to have the best chance of surviving, we will need all seven kingdoms fighting together against our common enemy.” 

“Egg,” came the firm voice of his other uncle. “From the research I have done, I believe Bran the Builder built the Wall with spells that prevent the dead from passing.”

“Fuck,” Jon muttered as he started rubbing his temples. He had not thought about that. He had thought this was a fool proof way to prevent another stuid wight hunt. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to have to go North of the Wall for any reason. He also knew the importance of having several wights to show the rest of Westeros what they were going to be fighting.

“However, there might be another way,” Aemon continued, bringing Aegon from his musings. “The first wight we encountered, the one you killed with you saved Lord Commander Mormont, was brought into the Castle from the North…” 

“Aye,” Jon nodded in confirmation as he met Aemon’s clear, dark purple eyes. 

His elderly Targaryen Uncle then explained the traitors could be hung, and their bodies dangled over the North side of the Wall from the lookouts. Then once they turned, they could be placed in the ice cells below the castle.

When Aemon finished speaking, everyone in the room was in agreement.

Jon was happy the fate of the betrayers had been settled and that they would be getting the wights they needed, but there was more he needed to accomplish before he left Castle Black. 

“Next, I would like to discuss the fate of my Uncles.” Jon was met with several quizzical looks, but he knew he needed to be surrounded by family members he trusted and that would provide valuable counsel. Also, neither Aemon nor Benjen had committed a crime - neither had been sentenced to serve their life at the Wall - therefore, they did not deserve to be wasting their lives, freezing to death as they waited for the Night King and the Army of the Dead to arrive.

“What about us?” Benjen said with a pinched brow.

“As you all know, the realms might not believe my story... They might not believe I am the rightful King of Westeros.”

“It’s a pretty unbelievable story,” Edd scoffed.

“And not everyone will believe you were killed and brought back by the Red Woman,” Ser Davos added. 

“Which is why I need each of my uncles by my side when I go south.”

“King Crow, your uncles are both Crows. Even I know that Crows that abandon their post are supposed to be killed… Just like I was surprised to see your pretty head was still on your shoulders after we Free Folk attacked the Wall,” Tormund said, furrowing his brow and taking a long sip of what Jon guessed was fermented mare’s milk from a wine skin. 

“Aye, that is true, which is why,” Jon then turned to look at his two uncles, “As King of Westeros, I am releasing each of you from your vows to the Night's Watch. You were both here because you chose to serve the Watch with honor - Neither you were sentenced to this life. The realms believed my Uncle Benjen to be lost beyond the Wall and I think most have forgotten Maester Aemon was still alive…”

Jon could see tears beginning to shine in the old Maester’s eyes. Jon took his uncle’s wrinkled hand in his and smiled, “Uncle Aemon, I believe a wise old man once told me, _A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing._ I want you to know, you will never be alone again.”

“Thank you, Egg,” the old man replied, his vibrant eyes glassing over with tears as he gave Jon’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I knew you were special from the moment you stepped foot to this drafty old castle. I could feel a connection to you deep down in my old bones - A connection I had not felt since I was last surrounded by my family in King’s Landing. I suspected then you had the blood of Old Valyria running through your veins. I thought maybe your mother might have been a bastard of House Velaryon... However, when I touched your face for the first time, I could feel the face of my brother Egg. I knew then you were actually my kin. I knew that fate had brought my family to be with me so I would not be alone in my twilight years. I have watched you grow from a greenboy, to a man, to a leader. I will be happy to stand by your side and provide counsel to you as I watch you unite the seven kingdoms restore our family’s name.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Jon replied. “Without you, I would not have learned the skills necessary to become the King I need to be… And I also would not have my dragon,” he added, looking over by the hearth where his dragon hatchling and direwolf were cuddled. “Why is it you decided to place your dragon egg in my funeral pyre?” 

“When Ser Davos and Melisandre were discussing trying to resurrect you, I thought maybe your body could draw strength from the stone.”

“This is true, your Grace,” The Red Woman purred, injecting herself into the conversation. “In the past, I saw a vision of a shadowed figure walking out of flames with a dragon. This is what led me to Dragonstone - to Stannis. Dragonstone was one of the last places where Dragons flew. When no eggs were found, I thought I had misinterpreted the sign sent to me by the Lord of Light. Then, when your Uncle placed the dragon egg in my arms, I could feel the life within it, requesting to be released. I knew then I was you. You were the shadowed figure I saw walking out of the had seen in that vision.”

“I am thankful you were able to bring my stone egg to life, but what I did not know when we placed the egg in your pyre, was that I would also find strength from it as it was licked by the flames.”

“What do you mean, Maester,” Melisandre asked, clearly confused by the old man’s statement.

“As you know, before my nephew was resurrected, my sight had left me… I had been blind for over twenty namedays. Then, when the fire for Aegon’s pyre was lit, I felt the warmth from the flames… Then as the fire burned, I began to see the outlines of the flames. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me - that I was seeing an image in my head of what I thought was happening. But as the fire continued to burn, everything just became more vibrant,” Aemon smiled. “However, I never expected the first thing I would see clearly after so many years was a sweet baby dragon sitting on the shoulder of my dear nephew… Speaking of the little dragon, have you bestowed a name upon your hatchingling?”

“Not yet Uncle,” Jon smiled. “I thought maybe we could come up with a name for him together after we leave Castle Black.”

“I would be honored.” 

“Jon…” Benjen started putting his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I am not sure I can leav-”

The Former Bastard of Winterfell could tell his Stark uncle was about to protest his decision, so he put his hand up, effectively silencing the man. “I am your king and my decision is final,” Jon stated with authority. “You have spent nearly twenty years of your life wasting away at the Wall, blaming yourself for the deaths of your Father, oldest brother and sister. Their deaths were not on your hands and you need to stop blaming yourself for things you cannot control. It is time for you to stop living in a past of shame and regret. You cannot change everything that has happened in the past, but we can change what is in front of us… And I know that I need you to be by my side. Family is one of the most important things and I will not take _loyal_ family members for granted.”

“Aye, your Grace. Thank you,” Benjen choked out, a smile forming on the man’s lips as he pulled Jon into an embrace. “You mother would be proud of the man you have become,” he whispered as they broke apart.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Jon murmured. Taking a deep breath as he stood he willed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes not to fall.

Once he felt he had collected himself, he looked towards his loyal brother, “Edd, you have demonstrated that you are an honorable and capable leader. Therefore, I trust you will write to the Citadel and request a new Maester to serve at the Wall.” 

“Why can’t you send it?” Edd protested. “You’re still here.”

“Because, while the Wall is readied for the executions, I need to begin packing the supplies necessary for our travels… I also plan to go to the Free Folk camp and ask if they will join me in my journey.”

“Journey?” Tormund’s interest was piqued. “Where are ya going?”

Jon then explained he planned to travel to Eastwatch, where the ships left by Stannis he had used to escort the Free Folk from Hardhome were located. From Eastwatch, he planned to sail south to the Targaryen ancestral seat of Dragonstone. 

“If ya don’t mind me asking, your Grace, why Dragonstone?” The Onion Knight asked. “It’s been abandoned for years and is nothing but a pile of black stones.”

Jon smiled. “As Tormund and Edd and Maester Aemon know, wights can be killed by three things. Fire, Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass.” The three men nodded in confirmation. “Well, it just happens that the pile of black stones Dragonstone sits atop of is actually a mountain of Dragonglass.”

Aemon’s face lit up. “I remember playing in the Dragonglass caves below the keep with my brother as a boy. There should be more than enough Dragonglass to arm every soldier in the seven Kingdoms.”

“Aye, there is.”

“So, you want the Free Folk to go south to some island? Why?” Tormund inquired.

“I am not the King of the Free Folk and I cannot give them orders,” Jon admitted. “But we all know, if we are to survive the Night King and his army, we are going to have to work together. As much as I hate saying this, the people of the North don’t yet understand the danger. They see the Free Folk as the enemy and I fear they would attack your camps… Therefore, I thought maybe the Free Folk would come south with me for protection and to start mining the Dragonglass. The sooner we begin forging weapons, the better our chances of survival.”

“I will follow you, King Crow,” Tormund said. “And after seeing you rise out of your funeral pyre, alive and not one of those dead fuckers, I have a feeling many others will follow you as well… They think you’re some sort of god.”

“I am not a god,” Jon responded, shaking his head. “Aye, I know… I saw your pecker when you walked out the fire. A god would never have a pecker than small,” the redheaded man deadpanned.

 _I should have known Tormund would still make this fucking jape_. Jon tried to ignore the man’s words. “Even if you feel they will come south, I believe it would be best for me to ask them myself.” Once he saw the nods of agreement from those gathered around his desk, it was determined Jon would go down to the Free Folk Camp, with his Uncle Benjen after the traitors had been executed and hung over the north side of the Wall. Then, at first light, they would begin the journey to Eastwatch.

Just as the King was about to assign tasks to everyone, his steward, Satin, delivered a raven that had just arrived from Winterfell. Jon eyed the pink wax seal of the flayed man once the scroll was in his hand. “It’s from Ramsay,” Jon confirmed.

“Perhaps the contents might be different,” Ser Davos stated optimistically. “Things have changed some.”

Jon did not believe that. Ramsay was a terrible man and knew that in order to remain in control of the North, he would need Sansa. The Bolton Bastard needed to be taken down, but he knew he would need more men; he did not want to repeat what happened the first time he rode into battle to regain control of Winterfell.

With a sigh, Jon broke the seal and read the letter aloud:

** To the Traitor and Bastard Jon Snow,  
  
You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come and see.  
  
Your false king and his friends are dead, bastard. He and his entire host were smashed in seven days of battle. Their heads upon the walls of the castle, bastard, come and see.  
  
If you want your brother Rickon back, come and get him. I have him in a cage with my hounds. He was cold, so I used the skin of the wildling nursemaid whore he was with to make him a new cloak. His direwolf's skin is on my floor, in the Lord’s chambers, come and see.  
  
I want my bride back. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will ride North to slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see.  
  
Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North **

Jon placed the letter on his desk and pinched his nose, hoping to offset the forming headache that was beginning behind his eyes. The letter was slightly different than before but the point was the same and he wanted nothing more than to tell Edd to have men escort his sister back to her husband when she arrived with Brienne and Podrick, but he knew if Ramsay had Sansa, taking control of the North would be harder.

“The Free Folk ain’t afraid of so fancy southern lords, King Crow,” Tormund stated, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. 

“Aye, I know that,” Jon agreed. 

_“The North is important, but it can wait,” the voice of his grandfather counseled._

“However, that is what he wants. He wants for us to come to him. But storming Winterfell would be a death sentence for too many. And with the threat to the North, we are going to need all the men we can get. We need to be smart. Freeing the North from Ramsay is going to have to wait.”

His advisors, except his Uncle Benjen, seemed to nod in agreement. 

_“Your Uncle Benjen will still want to save Sansa, she is his blood.”_

Jon was thankful however that his Stark uncle did not protest his decision in front of the others in the room.

Once everyone had been given tasks, Jon was left alone in his chambers with his Uncle Benjen; he could tell his uncle had stayed back to speak with him in private. However, his uncle did not say anything - it was as if he was searching for the correct words or was unsure if he wanted to speak or not. After several moments of thick silence, Jon could no longer take it.

“Uncle Benjen, please. Just say whatever it is you wish to say. If you are to provide me with counsel, you cannot be afraid to challenge my decisions when it is just the two of us.”

“I am not challenging your decisions. I think having the traitors turn to wights and taking the Free Folk south for their safety is smart. Mining the Dragonglass now is smart. And our time at sea will allow us to come up with a solid plan to unite the seven kingdoms under the Targaryen banner.”

“I can tell something is troubling you.” Jon knew his grandfather was correct - Benjen wanted to discuss a plan to save Sansa. However, no matter how evil Ramsay was, the thought of waiting for his redheaded cousin made his stomach churn.

“It concerns Sansa…”

“What about her?” Jon asked, unable to mask the bitterness in his tone. 

“I think we should wait for her before leaving for Eastwatch.”

Jon wanted to scream at his uncle. “You heard Ramsay’s letter. We need to leave before she gets here. I will not have the blood of thousands of Free Folk on my hands for one girl. Even if she is kin.”

All he could think about was how Sansa had treated him and all the other Starks so poorly in his last life. The list of grievances he had with his _cousin_ were endless. As a young child, she treated him as though he was a worthless piece if shit - running to her mother, crying if he so much as looked at her too long. Or tattling to Lady Stark if he did anything slightly out of line. He wanted to smack the smug smile off her face every time she took joy in his punishment.

She had lied to King Robert and Queen Cersei about the altercation between Arya and Joffrey along the Kingsroad as they traveled from Winterfell to King’s Landing. This lie caused Arya to send Nymeria away and also resulted in the deaths of her own direwolf, Lady. _Arya’s friend, the butcher’s boy, Micah, was also killed by Cersei so he would not let others know the truth of what happened - his death was also on Sansa’s hands._

Then, even after seeing how terrible and vile the Prince was, she went to Cersei and told them their Father wanted them to leave King’s Landing and return to Winterfell. She had even confided to him the night they reunited at the wall, the reason she went to Cersei was because she wanted to be queen- if Father sent her away, her betrothal would have been broken. _If she had just gone home to her mother and Robb, like Father asked, many of the Stark Household guards might have survived. Father might not have been arrested. Arya might not have had to grow up on the run._

Even when Jon thought about her time in the Vale, she made mistakes. If she had any brains, she would have known she should have been honest to the Lords and Ladies about her Aunt’s death; Lord Royce would have been happy to protect her out of love for their father. However, without Littlefinger, she had no power. So she lied. 

Sansa then agreed to let herself be sold to Roose Bolton for his son Ramsay, even knowing the Bolton’s help orchestrate the Red Wedding. It had hurt so badly when she admitted this. At the time, Jon believed her, that she was just a naive little girl that only wanted to get away from Lord Baelish and go home. Looking back, Jon realized she agreed to this because by marrying the son of the Warden of the North meant that she would one day become the Lady of Winterfell. She believed she would be able to control the household like her father allowed her mother… When she realized her folly when she discovered Ramsay might have been more evil than Joffrey. Jon was still disgusted by Ramsay's actions towards her; no one should have to live with the terror of being repeatedly beaten and raped for someone else’s entertainment and he was grateful she was able to flee. However, he knew that if Ramsay had treated her honorably, or even decently, she never would have left Winterfell - she would have spent the rest of her days as Sansa Bolton, the Lady of Winterfell. She would not have cared that those men were responsible for the deaths and pain of so many Northerners. _Gods I was so stupid back then, I never should have believed her pity stories._

He also realized he was a fool for trusting her. From the moment she realized he was not going to throw her out of Castle Black, she began to manipulate him. She truly believed she was sorry for treating him like shit growing up. She convinced him the best course of action was to rally the Northerners and take back their home. However, she lied to him. When he told them they did not have enough men, she hid the fact that the Knights of the Vale would come to their aide. When he wanted to devise a plan to rescue Rickon, she convinced him that Rickon was already dead… Then when they saw their wild little brother alive, she knew he would rush into the fray to save him. 

While Jon was in exile, he figured out the game she had played. He realized she either wanted him to die in the battle or at least be blamed for the northerners and Free Folk that gave their lives following his plan. He knew she believed she would be seen as the hero when the Vale rode in and saved them all from certain death. She believed that as the hero of the battle, she would be named the Queen in the North. Jon would never forget the fleeting look of disdain that crossed her face when little Lady Mormont declared him King.

The moment he was named King, she began disrespecting him and questioning his decisions in front of the lords and ladies. 

When he decided not to punish young Alys Karstark and little Ned Umber for the sins of their fathers, she had not hidden her displeasure. When he said he was going south to convince Dany of the dangers North of the Wall, Sansa again was very vocal about his decision, even though she knew without allies, the North would not survive winter… That was until he told her she would hold the North in his stead. Then she supported his decision. He should have known she was just trying to spread seeds of doubt. If she truly cared about him and his rule, she would have spoken to him in private about her concerns. 

Again he chastised himself for not figuring Sansa and her games out sooner. 

He had wanted to execute Petyr Baelish as soon as Sansa informed him that he was the one who _sold_ her to the Boltons, his _cousin_ had convinced him they needed the man. However, as soon as Sansa realized she could no longer control the man from usurping her power, she had him killed. She knew all along the Vale would be happy to be rid of the man. This made her a hero in the eyes of the Vale. 

After he returned to Winterfell with Daenerys and an army of over 100,000 fighting men at his back, Sansa was cold and ungrateful. She blamed him for giving up the freedom the North deserved. The freedom she had worked so hard to obtain. He was an idiot to think she would change once she got to know Dany - once she learned Dany would have done anything in her power to keep the people of the North safe.

The deepest betrayal though had been her broken oath under the Heart Tree in Winterfell’s Godswood. He had trusted her. He wanted his siblings to know their father had never cheated on their mother. Because he trusted Sansa, he was manipulated to kill the love of his life. _Gods I should have taken Daenerys into my arms and comforted her when I arrived at Dragonstone and learned of the deaths of Missandei and Rhaegal. I never should have pushed her away. If I had not been so upset about learning Sansa had told Tyrion about my parentage, I might have had a clear mind to be there for her. To give her what she needed. To let her know she was not alone._ Because he allowed himself to be used as a pawn, Sansa achieved her goal. Even after Bran had been named King of Westeros, Sansa refused. Proclaiming the North as independent from the Crown because, _“they deserved it.”_

“I know you are still angry at her for everything that happened in the past,” Benjen stated, bringing Jon out of his inner turmoil and musing. 

“She betrayed me more than once!” Jon exclaimed, unable to prevent his anger from seeping into his tone. “She promised me we would be honest with each other. That we had to trust one another. Then as soon as she saw she could benefit, she would go behind my back or challenge my decisions in front of others.”

“I am not saying she hasn’t made mistakes,” his uncle conceded. “But many of the decisions she made were to stay alive… And you cannot blame her for mistakes she has yet to make.”

Jon hated that his Uncle had a point. But he could not yet find words to express himself, so he stayed quiet and his uncle continued. 

“She has our blood and Ned would be angry if we did not do everything possible to keep her safe… Just like he did everything in his power to keep you safe.”

“I know, I just don’t know what to do,” Jon admitted. “I cannot forget what she did. I am not ready to face her because if I did, I don’t know if I would not become a kinslayer again. She broke apart the pack for her own greed. I cannot take her south with us...” 

_“Perhaps she can be helpful to you without taking her south,” Aerys stated. “I believe that Lord Baelish will arrive in Molestown within a sennight of Sansa’s arrival.”_

After hearing his grandfather’s words, an idea then formed in Jon’s mind. So he quickly continued before his Uncle could speak. “However, I do agree with your assessment that my Fa— Ned Stark would be quite upset if we did not do everything in our power to keep his eldest daughter safe. I also know she will not be safe at the Wall or anywhere else in the North.”

Jon then explained that he would go to Molestown and bribe one of the brothel owners to keep his sister and her guards safe until Lord Baelish arrived. He would leave instructions for her to convince Littlefinger to take her to the Vale for safety, making sure to include Ramsay’s letter with his own, so she could prove to the Lord Protector of the Vale, the North was not currently safe for her. Then, once Jon had secured an Army to reclaim Winterfell from the Bolton Bastard, he would either go to the Vale and get her or send for her.

His uncle was agreeable to this plan. And thanked him for allowing Sansa a chance to redeem herself.

After his uncle left, Jon sat down to write the letter for his cousin. He made sure to include that she should do whatever it took to ensure the Vale would side with them when they marched for Winterfell.

_“That is a very wise decision my grandson. I know that was a difficult decision and you are learning from your previous mistakes.”_

_Thank you, Grandfather,_ Jon thought as he sealed the letter with a dollop of black wax. Leaving the missive on this desk, he stood up and donned his heavy black cloak that had been draped over the back of his chair. He then grabbed Ramsay’s letter and put it into his breast pocket, before picking up his still nameless dragon hatching, who had been nesting in Ghost’s thick white fur. 

“Alright, boys, y’all ready to go meet with Uncle Benjen and then go visit some friends?” Jon asked his creatures the majority of Westeros believed to be near extinct.

The small silver dragon squawked in agreement as he climbed to perch himself on Jon’s shoulder. The older direwolf stood from where he’d been laying by the fire and nuzzled Jon’s hand; Jon knew this was Ghost’s silent way of telling him he was ready. 

The three of them went down to the training yard, where his uncle was waiting with two saddled horses. 

“You ready, your Grace,” Benjen asked, as he handed Jon the reins of his horse.

“Aye, let’s get this over with.”

As they made their way to the camp, Jon prayed Tormund had been able to gather the Free Folk elders in one place; the last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in the camp, gathering the necessary people, or speaking with each individually then listen to them argue about staying on the lands just south of the Wall or sailing with him to Dragonstone. 

* * *

  
  


As Jon and Benjen rode back to Castle Black through the ankle deep snow, the rightful king was still in disbelief. He had expected some pushback from the Free Folk, similar to what he had experienced at Hardhome. Thankfully, he had been wrong. All five thousand of the Free Folk agreed to follow Him to Dragonstone and mine the Dragonglass. He had not even needed to read Ramsay’s letter - Tormund had already convinced them to travel south before they had even arrived in the camp.

“Your Grace, everything is ready,” the Onion knight greeted him when he and his Uncle Benjen reached the gates of Castle Black. 

Jon nodded and dismounted from his horse. He knew exactly what the old man meant. It was time for him to sentence the traitors that shoved their cold steel knives into his gut and chest. “Please have the prisoners brought to the block. I will be there shortly.”

Ser Davos respectfully nodded his head and left the King alone with his uncle. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this, Aegon,” Benjen said as they made their way to the stables. “They have already admitted their guilt. I am sure Edd or one of the others would be more than willing to pass the sentence.”

“I am aware that Edd is perfectly capable of passing the sentence on my behalf,” Jon agreed. “However, Uncle Ned told me ‘ _The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.’_ I know why they did it, but I owe it to them to hear their words.” _I want to look Alliser in the eyes after they give me their sob stories and let him know he orchestrated the death of his Targaryen King,_ he left unsaid.

“Good,” his uncle said with a smile. 

The two men remained silent as they continued to the barn.

After they gave the horses to the Black Brother in the stable, Jon and Benjen made their way to the courtyard, where the wooden gallows had been erected. 

The rightful King could Melisandre standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard; the smug but proud smile on her face still gave him an uneasy feeling. _I hope I can trust her… She will either be very valuable to House Targaryen, but if she makes mistakes again, it could be the end before Dany and I even have a chance to restore our name._

He could also see all of the brothers in black gathered around the wooden structure; as he walked past, he saw many different expressions on their faces, some had pride, others emotionless, while others looked uneasy. _The only difference this time is that Tormund and the other Free Folk are not in attendance,_ Jon thought as he and Benjen met Edd at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the platform.

It was then that Jon looked up the stairs and saw the four traitors that had been captured alive. Seeing Bowen Marsh, Othell Yaryick, Alliser Thorne and Olly standing on the platform, their hands secured behind their backs and rope nooses were around their necks made his blood begin to boil. He wanted nothing more than to unsheath Longclaw and gut each one of them where they stood. But he knew he needed them intact.

“You don’t have to do this, Jon,” Edd said quietly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I will be happy to take care of these fuckers for you.”

“I know, but this is something that I have to do for myself,” Jon replied, trying to keep his tone even. 

His friend nodded in understanding and Jon made his way up the wooden staircase alone while his loyal friend and Uncle Benjen went to stand next to Maester Aemon, who was holding onto the arm of Satin.

When he reached the platform of the gallow, he walked towards the four men who he had once called his brothers. He looks each of them in the eyes, seeing nothing but hate and anger and disbelief as he makes his way down to the furthest of the four, Bowen Marsh. 

“If you have any last words, now is the time,” he bit out to the dark haired man Edd always called the Old Pomegranate because he was red and round as the fruit.

“You shouldn’t be alive. It’s not right,” the former First Steward replied bitterly.

“Neither was killing me, your Lord Commander,” Jon bit back before moving on to the next man, the former first builder, Othell Yarwyck.

“My mother's still living at White Harbor,” the man replied when Jon met his eyes. “Could you write to her? Tell her I died fighting the wildings.” 

“I will not lie to your mother,” Jon spat as he moved down the line. _Same fucking words as the last time._

“Olly,” Jon said sadly as he looked the young boy in the eyes. At times, Jon could not help but think he had failed the boy. He knew looking back, the young boy could not forgive him for allowing the Wildlings south of the Wall because they were the ones that murdered his parents and every other member of his village. _Maybe if I had taken him to Hardhome with me he would have understood… Although, I did not plan for the fucking Night King to attack and kill thousands in front of us. However, I never expected my last moments to be of having someone I thought I could trust plunge a cold steel dagger into my heart._ “Do you have any last words?”

His former personal steward just stared at him with an unwavering resolve, though Jon could see the fear and anger just below the surface. 

_“There is nothing you can do about the boy, Aegon. I know you wish to see some remorse in his eyes, but he is lost in a sea of hatred. His mind poisoned by the horrors he saw the day his village was slaughtered and the words fed to him by the other men involved in the mutiny.”_

_I know, Grandfather,_ Jon thought as he took a deep lungful of cold northern air and moved on to the last of the men who betrayed and murdered him. The man that had hated him since the day he first stepped foot within the walls of the wretched Castle Black. _All because he believed I was the bastard son of a traitor to the crown. He had probably been looking for a way to dispose of me since that day… I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he learns exactly what he did._

“Ser Alliser,” Jon announced with a clipped tone. “Any last words?”

“I had a choice, Lord Commander. Betray you or betray the Night’s Watch. You brought an army of Wildlings into our lands. An army of murderers and raiders. If I had to do it all over knowing where I’d end up, I pray I’d make the right choice again,” the older knight said proudly with his head held high. “I fought, I lost. Now I rest. But you, **_Lord Snow_ **, you’ll be fighting their battles forever.”

“No, Ser Allister, I don’t think so,” Jon uttered. “I believe you will be the one fighting my battles… And I will let you in on a secret Lord Stark took to his grave, one I believe you will find quite interesting. The identity of my mother.”

The former Master-at-Arms and First Ranger stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on his face before laughing. “Why in the seven hells would I give a fuck about which whore Lord Stark slept with. All you will ever be is the bastard son of a traitor. The Bastard Commander that...”

The ramblings of the man were interrupted when a high pitched screech echoed throughout the courtyard. _The little guy doesn’t like that his Father was just called the bastard of a traitor,_ Jon thought as Ghost silently padded up the gallows to stand next to him. The small silver dragon then climbed out the direwolf’s thick fur and bound up to perch himself on Jon’s shoulder.

Jon smiled at the gorgeous beasts and gave each of them loving caresses before turning his attention back to the man that led the mutiny against him.

“Why is there a fucking dragon on your shoulder!” The man spat with venom. “You are the bastard son of the usurper’s dog. You are soiling the Targaryen name. That dragon should belong to Maester Aemon! He is the only Targaryen in Westeros!”

The dragon hatchling screeched again, silencing the man. _Good boy,_ Jon thought with a smile as he scratched the warm silver scales of the near extinct creature before turning his attention back to the man in the noose before him. 

“As I was saying, Ser Alliser… Let me tell you a secret, one you are going to wish you never knew, or maybe one you wish you would have been told sooner. Perhaps if you knew sooner, you never would have convinced these men to shove their knives into their Lord Commander’s torso **_‘for the watch.’_ **”

Jon then invaded the space where the bound man stood, so close he knew the words he was about to speak would not be overheard. “It was no secret you hated me from the moment I arrived at the Wall as a green boy. In your eyes all you could see was a bastard son of an honorable man that helped to end the reign of the Mad King.” _Sorry Grandfather._

_“That is not a lie my boy. I did evil things I regret.”_

“And his honor was what got him killed in the end,” Thorne scoffed.

“You judged me for sins I did not commit, because you could not look beyond your anger,” he continued, ignoring Thorne’s comment about his Uncle Ned. “I devoted myself to the watch and was **_elected_ ** to be the Lord Commander by our brothers because they believed in me. But still, you found a reason to betray me because you did not believe in the decision of a Lord Commander who is the _bastard son of a traitor_ … And here is my little secret… Not only did you betray the Watch when you lead my murder, you betrayed House Tarygaryen because you killed the last son the Crown Prince. 

Ser Allister’s eyes widen as though he was seeing him for the first time. “Impossible,” he mumbled in disbelief. “Prince Aegon’s head was bashed against a wall in the Red Keep. His body and the body of his sister were presented to Robert Baratheon in the Throne Room…”

“Did you really believe Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark?” However, Jon did not allow him to answer. “Of course he didn’t. They were in love. They ran off together and were married. Ned Stark found his sister dying in a bed of her own blood after giving birth to Prince Rhaegar’s last trueborn son. His sister’s last words to her brother were to protect her son, Aegon Targaryen, from the man that celebrated the deaths of his siblings… So you see, it is possible. Ned Stark was an honorable man and he kept that promise to his sister until his dying breath.”

Alliser was still staring at him. The color completely drained from his face, “No… that can’t be,” he retorted weakly.

“You know it is,” Jon said with a smile, thoroughly enjoying watching the man who made his life at Castle Black much harder than it needed to be. “And thank you, Ser Alliser… Thank you for killing the boy I was and allowing the Targaryen King I need to be, rise from the ashes.”

“Your Grace. Please. I’m sorry. Please allow me to serve you.”

“Your death is inevitable, Ser Alliser... However, I will allow you to serve House Targaryen. Because you see, I have decided to allow you the privilege of being turned into one of those mindless creatures I saved the Free Folk from that lurks beyond the Wall. Then I will show your walking corpse to people all over Westeros to prove the threat is real. I dismember you, one body part at a time as a demonstration to others, until there is nothing left of you… All the while you will be serving the House you love.”

Aegon then turned his back to the mutineers and unsheathed Longclaw. Taking a heavy breath, he swung his sword, slicing the rope, causing the platform to be pulled out from under the traitors’ feet. However, instead of the sadness and remorse and failure he felt the last time he hung them, this time he felt something else, a feeling he could not quite describe as he watched them choke and die. 

After the bodies of the four traitors’ stopped swinging, he sheathed his sword, and walked down the stairs with Ghost beside him, to where Edd was waiting for him. “Take their bodies to the top of the wall like we discussed.”

Edd nodded, before turning to brothers gathered in the courtyard and gave the order.

* * *

That evening, Jon felt lighter. Killing Thorne had been even more satisfying this time because the arsehole died knowing he killed the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Everything for his journey was packed and ready. He just had a couple last things to do before he could go to bed for the night. After picking up the letter he had written for his _cousin_ and securing Longclaw on his hip, he instructed Ghost, who was holding his sleeping dragon on his back, to come. Ghost walked silently by his side as he made his way down the hall to the first of his two stops. Edd’s chambers.

“You want me to do what?” 

Jon could tell the interim Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch was skeptical after Jon gave him the letter and informed him to have _his sister_ travel to the brothel in Molestown. 

“As I said, give this letter to Sansa and send her away.”

“Don’t you think it would be safer if she stayed at Castle Black?”

“No,” Jon resolutely stated. “I fear that Ramsay may have a spy at the Wall… There is no other explanation for him knowing the Free Folk are under my protection.” _Not exactly true, but Edd does not need to know this._ “If she were to stay here, word of her whereabouts will be confirmed to the Bolton bastard. He will send his men here to retrieve his prize and if Sansa is not peacefully handed over to them, they will attack. And the attack will not stop until every last member of the Night's Watch is dead. However, if you send her away, word will be sent that her request for asylum was denied and she was sent away.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Edd agreed. 

After Jon bid his friend farewell, he, Ghost and the dragon hatchling made their way further down the hall to the rooms that were occupied by the Red Witch.

“My King,” Melisandre greeted him in a sultry tone as she opened the door. “Please come in. I was hoping to see you before we left.”

Sometimes Jon wondered if keeping Melisandre around was worth putting up with the odd vibe she emitted.

_“Don’t let her words get to you by boy. She has a part to play. You have informed her of the errors of her past. She failed in your last life. I will make sure she does not fail again. Now, tell her her role and remind her what will happen if she does not help the dragon.”_

“Melisandre,” Jon replied aloofly as he sat down on a chair next to the hearth. “I believe we have some things that need to be addressed before we leave.”

“I have been looking into the flames. I know my error from the past and I apologize.”

“So now you decide burning young girls was a mistake,” Jon bit, unable to prevent the anger that was boiling beneath the surface. “Shireen was innocent. She was sweet and kind and would have made bringing the Stormlands to our cause easier. I came here tonight to tell you if you sacrifice anyone to you god, innocent or guilty, I will take your head myself before burning your body.”

Jon could see the surprise in the Priestess’ face. It was clear she had not expected him to know she had burned the young princess. 

“That was a mistake, one of many I have made in my journey to find you, and for that I apologize,” she said softly. “If I could change that past I would. But that is not the error I was speaking of.”

Now the young King’s interest was piqued. “If killing an innocent girl was not the mistake you were apologizing for, what was it?”

“I misinterpreted the flames.”

Jon was unable to hold in the scoff that left his lips. “I feel you did that quite a bit in this life and the past.”

“Yes, but since your resurrection, things that were hazy before have become more clear…” 

The Red Woman then explained how just before Stannis’ attempt to take Winterfell, she had seen a vision of him in the flames. She had heard dragons roar overhead and he was fighting in battle outside of the castle, alongside an army that carried flaming weapons that appeared to be half-sword and half-scythe. When he had told her how in his past life, she lit the arakhs of the dothraki, she believed this was what she was the role she was supposed to play in the Great War. But now, she knows it is an error. An error that had cost the lives of nearly half the Dothraki warriors in the life he saw while he was dead. She knew now, her role was to return to the Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis so she could obtain the army of the Fiery Hand for his cause. 

Melisandre then requested that once they arrive on Dragonstone, she be allowed to take one of his ships and sail Volantis. From there, she would be able to complete the part she had to play. Jon agreed.

After speaking with the Red Witch, Jon made his way back to his chambers with his wolf and dragon in tow. That night he dreamed of Dany, and the life they would have once the wars were won.


	6. The Brothel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives Jon’s letter and has a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next little bit. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

* * *

**SANSA**

The Lady of Winterfell was still in disbelief.

She, Lady Brienne and her squire Podrick Payne had arrived at Castle Black a sennight ago. She had hoped to reunite with her bastard half brother, Jon Snow and convince him to take the men of the Night’s Watch down to Winterfell to kill her husband, Ramsay. However, when they arrived, her plans were squashed. She learned from a man, who introduced himself as the new Lord Commander, Eddison Tollett, that her brother was gone and that she could not stay at Castle Black.

At first she was devastated and did not know what she was going to do. She believed her last remaining Stark family member was dead. She thought about turning around and heading to Riverrun, but the last she heard, it was under siege by the Lannisters and her Uncle Edmure was a prisoner of Walder Frey. _A prisoner of one of the men who helped orchestrate the deaths of my mother, my brother Robb and his wife and their unborn babe as well as thousands of Northern and Riverland soldiers._

Another reason she could not go south was because Ramsay. Then, even if she made it past Winterfell and south of Moat Cailin, the Lannisters roaming the Riverlands were sure to capture her once. If she was taken captive it would not be long until she was once again taken back to King’s Landing… Taken back to Cersei. She would rather be dead than a prisoner of the beautiful golden lion queen mother again. _She would probably kill me this time because she believes I am responsible for her precious Joffrey’s death._ However, unlike before she had Brienne of Tarth, a capable warrior who had sworn to protect her. _But will the female want-to-be knight truly be able to protect me from Ramsay and his army? Will she really be able to keep me safe from the Lannisters?_ Sansa was sure it was only a matter of time before the giant woman and her weak squire abandoned her or died trying to protect her. 

She knew she was already living on borrowed time; she knew she had less than a moonturn before the men Ramsay sent after her found her. And without Jon at the Wall, there was no one to keep her safe.

The scrawny man, who had introduced himself as the Lord Commander, then gave her a letter. She gasped when she recognized Jon’s handwriting. He told her Jon had procured her a safe place to stay at the brothel in Molestown and that he had left her instructions in the letter. Sansa had wanted to open it then, but man of the Night’s Watch told her she needed to leave; that if she didn’t he could not prevent one of the men from getting word to her husband about her whereabouts. 

When they got to the brothel, Sansa had been disgusted. The old wooden building was drafty, and looked like it would fall over at any moment. It looked as though it had not been properly cleaned in years and it smelled like rotten fish. However, it was not as if they had any other choice. 

After finding the brothel-keeper, they were shown to their rooms by an attractive young woman with long light brown and a long dark green dress that revealed way too much skin for the frigid weather. Sansa knew at once the woman was a whore. 

Then when the whore opened the door to their rooms Sansa was angry. It smelled worse than the common rooms downstairs. The smell brought back unpleasant memories of the way her rooms smelled after her husband had spent the night with her. _It smells like rotten seed._ Once again she was pissed at Jon and that she had not been allowed to stay at Castle Black. 

Then when the cunt began touching Podrick's arm, Sansa felt her temper beginning to flare.

Thankfully, Podrick must have sensed her irritation, because he politely told the whore they would be sure to send for her if needed. Before leaving, the girl said to send for her and she would be happy to take care of any needs they might have. Sansa wanted to scream at her. To tell her they were not interested and to leave them be. 

While Brienne started a fire in the hearth and Podrick went to get a meal for them, Sansa opened the letter and read it for the first time.

** Sansa,  
  
If you are reading this, I am glad you have safely made it away from your evil husband and to the Wall. As you have learned from Edd, I am no longer at Castle Black. My watch ended. But that is a story for another time.  
  
I apologize that you were sent away after such a long journey and that you are being forced to stay at a brothel, but I felt this would be the safest place for you. If it were safe for you to stay at the Wall, I would have asked Edd to allow it. However, Castle Black is full of criminals, thieves and rapists. There was no way to ensure your safety from these men if you were to stay. Also, besides the fact that Castle Black would be one of the first places Ramsay searches for you, there are several brother’s that would write to the Bastard informing him you are there, in hopes he might give them a pardon and grant them land in the North..  
  
I am also sorry I could not be at the Wall or Molestown to greet you, but the Wall and the surrounding lands are no longer safe for me either. The reason I had to leave in such a rush was because Ramsay Bolton has threatened me and my friends. He told me if I did not hand you over to him, he would kill me, the men of the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk I allowed to come south of the Wall for their safety this Winter. From what I have heard, his threats must be taken seriously and that he is not to be underestimated. Therefore, I am currently gathering more allies to defeat Roose Bolton’s Bastard and place Winterfell back into the hands of House Stark.  
  
I know that you fear you will not be safe without the protection of me or the brothers of the Night’s Watch, but I know you are not alone… I know that Lady Brienne of Tarth and her young squire Podrick Payne are with you and that they have sworn an oath to keep you safe. I want you to know, I would never have left if I did not feel you would be safe under the protection of your sword shields.  
  
Also, I have received information, from a reliable source, that Lord Petyr Baelish is riding north. He feels terrible for suggesting you marry the Bolton Bastard and wishes to make amends. As the Lord Protector of the Vale, Lord Baelish and the Knights of the Vale could be a valuable ally to return Winterfell to House Stark.  
  
Please do everything in your power to convince him to take you to the Eyrie. I know that you will be safe there. Then, once I have secured enough allies I will come or send for you. At this time, we will take Winterfell from Ramsay and it will be back in the hand of House Stark before Winter Comes.  
  
Remember all the lessons you have learned from Cersei, Joffrey, Lord Baelish and even Ramsay. Be smarter than Eddard Stark and Robb and even your former husband Tyrion Lannister. Please stay safe and stay smart.  
  
Also, never forget what Father taught us - the Lone Wolf Dies, but the Pack Survives. We are family and family must always support one another and work together, especially if we are to survive the winter.  
  
Jon Snow **

_That was seven days ago,_ Sansa thought as she gripped the letter from her half brother a little tighter. 

Seven days that she had been forced to hear men and women coupling… Of women actually sounding as though they are enjoying the company of the cock of the men dishonoring them. _How can these whores actually enjoy being defiled. I wish I could cut the cock off of every one of the men that come into this wretched place._

Seven days that she had been forced to eat watery rabbit stew, burnt bread and cheap ale. _Even the rabbits and birds Brienne and Podrick killed and roasted as we escaped were better than this shit they call food._

Seven days that she had to trust the words of a bastard. _How in the seven hells can I believe my half brother when he says Petyr is really coming for me? How would he even know? Does he have spies throughout the North? Why would he even think I would be safe with Petyr? He was the one that sold me to the Bolton’s! How can I trust him if he even shows up?_

Seven days she had no choice but to obey the commands of a bastard. She hated feeling powerless. _He knew I was coming. He should have waited for me to arrive! How can he expect us to work together to take back Winterfell when he did not have the courage to wait for me. Now he wants me to heed his commands. He wants me to get the Vale for him. What allies does he have? The Umbers and Karstarks and Cerwyn’s have all declared for Ramsay. The rest are too scared to leave their Castles… And Jon was too fucking scared to even stay in the North. How am I supposed to trust him? I bet my father’s bastard wants Ramsay to catch me. He probably wants to have someone kill me so he can take Winterfell for himself… Mother always said, bastards can never be trusted. That their blood is black and they will do whatever they can to usurp their trueborn siblings… That is definitely true. Ramsay killed his father and step-mother and infant half-brother. He also bragged to me that he killed his older brother, Domeric._

“Lady Sansa,” the timid voice of Podrick Payne called from the other side of the wooden door, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yes, Pod?” 

“There is a Lord Baelish here to see you.”

Sansa could not believe it. Her father’s bastard had been correct. Petyr had come north just as he has said in his letter she still held in her hands. she stood up from her chair and began pacing the room as her mind tried to figure out just what was happening. _Is Jon working with Lord Baelish? But how? What choice do I have? Either I go to the Vale and be a prisoner in the Eyrie or I have to go back to Winterfell and be Ramsay’s toy._

Shivers ran down her spine and her entire body shook at the thought of returning to her husband - She knew she needed to get away from Ramsay. She also knew that Littlefinger could not be trusted, but he had never physically harmed her. He had helped her to escape from the Lannisters and kept her safe in the past. He also told her that he loved her. _Maybe I can use his love for me to keep me safe_ . _As Eddard Stark's only remaining trueborn child, I am the rightful heir of Winterfell. If he truly loves me, he will make sure to help me take back my home and claim my rightful seat._

“My Lady are you well?” Podrick’s concerned voice called from the other side of the door. “Would you like for me to send him away?”

“I am well. I just need a minute to make myself presentable,” the red head replied.

She quickly stashed the letter from Jon the hidden pocket she’d sown into her gown. She grabbed her dark gray cloak from off the back of the chair, donned it and pulled up to hood before she made her way to the door. 

When she opened the door, her sworn shield’s squire smiled sheepishly at him and offered his arm. She did not care for the young boy. He was kind, but would never be able to protect her, but Brienne had stayed up watching her all night and was currently resting, therefore the young squire would have to do while her sworn shield rested. So, as proper etiquette dictated, she took his offered arm and allowed him to guide her to wherever Littlefinger was waiting.

A few minutes later, Podrick knocked on the door of a room on the other side of the brothel. 

The door quickly swung open and she was met by the face of the weasley looking man that was old enough to be her father.

“Sansa,” he gasped. “Please come in.”

After commanding Pod to stay and guard the door, Sansa stepped across the threshold and entered into the dirty bedchamber. The musty smell of sweat and sex assaulted her nose. _Why the fuck can they not clean this place._

“Lord Baelish,” she greeted the older man, trying to keep her tone calm and her features aloof. “I must say I am surprised to see you.”

“I am surprised you are here and not at Castle Black with your bastard brother.”

 _Because he was not there. He abandoned me in my time of need,_ Sansa thought spitefully to herself. “The Wall is full of criminals. Even with my guards it would not have been safe. Anyone there could have sent word to Ramsay about my whereabouts. It was safer to hide here.”

“That was a wise decision, my Lady. However, I want you to know, when I heard you had escaped Winterfell, I was worried. Then when I learned you were not at Castle Black, I feared the worst,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “I thought that maybe Ramsay or his hounds had found you.” 

Sansa tried her best to keep her muscles relaxed and tried her best to return his embrace. _I escaped Winterfell just over a moonturn ago._ She knew that something did not add up. _How was he able to travel from the Eyrie to the Wall so quickly? How did he know about Ramsay’s dogs?_ However, she knew needed to play along if she wanted to escape from her monstrous husband and use Lord Baelish to obtain justice for all that she suffered under Ramsay’s hands.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you unharmed.”

“Unharmed,” Sansa snapped, no longer able to project a calm demeanor. “Why would you think I am unharmed. That vile bastard harmed me in ways you cannot even imagine!” she spat, staring into his beady black eyes, trying to read him. Trying to see any sign that he knew what type of creature he **_sold_** her to. 

He remained quiet. So she took a step closer to him and continued. “Would you like to hear about our wedding night? He forced himself on me.”

“Sansa, I’m so…”

However, Sansa cut him off. She needed him to understand just what she had endured since her wedding in the Godswood of her home. “He cut me. Cut my arm, my thighs. He hit me. He left bruises all over my body. However, he never hurt my face. He needed my face, the face of Ned Stark’s daughter. But the rest of me, he did what he liked with the rest of me as long as I could still give him an heir.”

“I cannot begin to contemplate--”

“Did you know?” Sansa demanded.

“Know?” the older man asked with a furrowed brow.

“Did you know about Ramsay?” she spat. “If you didn’t know, you’re an idiot. If you did know, you’re my enemy… How am I supposed to trust the man that **_sold_ ** me to the man who took joy in torturing me?”

“Sansa,” Littlefinger cooed softly, wiping a tear from her check that she did not realize had fallen. “I swear to you I didn’t know.”

“I thought you knew everyone’s secrets.” She tried to keep her tone firm but she was beginning to lose her steely resolve. “How am I supposed to trust you? You freed me from the monsters who murdered my family only to give me to other monsters responsible for murdering my family.”

“I made a mistake, a horrible mistake and for that I am so sorry,” he said softly wiping another tear from her face before pulling her into his arms once more. Sansa could not help but to melt into his warm embrace. “I underestimated a stranger. Roose Bolton was the one involved in the deaths of your mother and older brother. The plan was for Roose to have an accident. Then you and Ramsay would have control of the North. I did not know he would be unkind to you. I never wanted to see you hurt. I just wanted to help you return home. I just wanted to protect you.”

_Maybe he really didn’t know Ramsay was so terrible._

“The other things he did, ladies aren’t supposed to talk about those things, but I imagine brothel keepers talk about them all the time,” Sansa confessed as she cried into his comforting arms. “I can still feel it. I don’t mean in my tender heart. I mean I can still feel what he did in my body standing here right now. And I do not know if it will ever go away.”

“I am so sorry, my sweet,” he purred, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I promise you. I will never allow him to hurt you again. I am here to protect you and I swear to the old gods and the new, that I will keep you safe.”

“How?” she said between sniffles. She hated that she was so weak. She knew she needed to be strong like Cersei and brave like Robb and cunning like the man who was holding her. But still, she felt like a child playing a game she was still trying to learn and she was losing. 

“I rode North with five thousand of Knights of the Vale to come to your aid,” Petyr said, wiping a few more tears off her cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. “I brought them with me to help take back Winterfell in your name and dispose of Ramsay Bolton. They are encamped at Moat Cailin as we speak.”

“Five thousand men is not enough,” Sansa sighed. _Looks like I might need the army Jon is gaining after all. But I do not want him to know I might have more men just yet. I should keep the knowledge of Jon to myself. I need to figure out if I can trust my bastard brother before I even tell Littlefinger about Jon._ “Ramsay has an army of at least ten thousand Northern Warriors. All of which have been resting since… Since Robb lost his war… Are you sure there are not more men the Vale could offer?”

“All Lord Robin said he could spare was the five thousand he sent with me.”

“Well Lord Baelish, I suggest you take me to the Vale.”

The Lord Protector of the Vale’s brow furrow. Confusion clear on his face, “Why would we go to the Vale. Can we not rally the Northern Houses behind Ned Stark’s daughter?”

“Because Lord Baelish, Ramsay is evil and all of the North fears him,” Sansa deadpanned. “He controls the North out of fear. We must look for allies elsewhere while secretly finding out which houses are still loyal to House Stark… I am sure you have whores spread throughout the North, how else would you have found me here.”

The confusion on the man’s face seemed to morph into one of pride. “It appears you have been paying attention to my lessons.”

Sansa nodded. “I’m a slow learner, it’s true. But I am ready to start showing our enemies all that I have learned over the years.”

“Well my dear, I suppose we better visit your cousin Robin,” Petyr said with a proud smile.

Sansa could not help the smile that spread across her face as well. This was almost too easy. Soon, she would have all the Knights of the Vale under her control as well as the Northern houses that might want to fight against Ramsay. Combining those men with whatever army Jon was amassing, their forces would crush the Bolton Bastard and she would be able to claim her place as the rightful heir of Winterfell. The North would be hers and she would finally be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you interested in my workskin, I posted it earlier today.


	7. The Flames of the Present and the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   * **Kings Landing:** Olenna receives a letter while waiting to learn news of Margaery and Loras' fate. 
>   * **The Shivering Sea:** Jon seeks counsel from his uncle as he travels south. 
>   * **The Smoking Sea:** Rhaegal continues his search after making a stop. 
> 


* * *

****

* * *

##  KING’S LANDING.....

The Queen of Thorne’s was usually a very patient woman. She was ordinarily able to keep calm as she waited for the perfect moment for her plans to fall into place.

Today, however, she had no patience, and she had no plan. She was not in control, and there was nothing she could do to regain the upper hand but wait. She was sure her grandsons, Garlan and Willas, were in shock, having never seen her like this before. They were trying to keep her calm, but their efforts were for naught.

She was a ball of restless energy because this was the day her gentle, sweet, loving granddaughter, the beloved Golden Rose of High Garden - the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, Margaery and grandson Loras, as well as the former Queen, Cersei Lannister, would face trial in front of the High Sparrow. 

She knew she could not attend the trial, but she had to be there. So she had her two oldest grandsons sneak her into the city. Which is how she found herself in a cheap room above a brothel on The Hook at the base of Aegon’s High Hill with an excellent view of both the Great Sept of Baelor and The Red Keep.

How her oaf of a son let the situation get this far out of hand was beyond her. _I should never have left King’s Landing to check on High Garden; she_ chastised herself. However, one thing Olenna did know was that Cersei was the one that caused this situation. The true ruler of the Reach knew the Dowager Queen was jealous of her Granddaughter and thought she had the High Sparrow in her clutches - that she actually believed she could use the faith and the High Sparrow as a way to make the younger, more beautiful Queen disappear. The only satisfaction Olenna got was that Cersei was arrested as well. _Gods, I wish I could have been here to see her walk of shame._

Having to secure an alliance with the Lannisters had been a gamble since they had been allied with Renly Baratheon _until the cunt got himself killed by a supposed shadow with his brother Stannis’ face._ Olenna wasn’t daft; she didn’t even need her spies or granddaughter to inform her that Renly and Loras were lovers... not that she cared as long as her granddaughter was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and one day her son, a child with the blood of the Rose, ascended to the Iron Throne. However, Renly could not even do his duty and put a babe in her Granddaughter’s womb. Her Rose had been widowed - the only silver lining is that the marriage to Renly had never consummated.

At first, it appeared making a deal with the Old Lion of Casterly Rock would pay off well for the Tyrells. Joffrey was vile but could easily be persuaded by Margaery - it appeared she was going to get her crown, and the Tyrells would finally have their blood on the Iron Throne. However, the longer she was in King’s Landing, the more she learned about King Joffrey _Baratheon’s_ true nature. She heard how he had killed a whore in his chambers with a crossbow. She heard whispers that as a child, he killed and mutilated cats. However, after finding out from the scared little Stark girl that Joffrey would have her stripped and beaten in court and made her stare at the severed head of her father for hours… She then realized he was the Mad King Aerys reborn. This was something she would tolerate. She refused to allow her granddaughter to become Joffrey’s next victim once he was tired of young Sansa; no matter how much she wanted Tyrell’s blood on the throne, she would not allow her granddaughter to be tortured and humiliated. Therefore, she began taking a closer interest in the other Baratheon Prince, young Tommen. He was sweet and naive, and she had no doubt he would be much easier to control… _Margaery would be able to whisper valuable counsel into his ear each night._

So, she disposed of the wicked Baratheon King with the help of the sneaky Lord Baelish. It was hard for her to hold back the smile as she watched the cunt choke on his wine.

After the death of King Joffrey, things seemed to be falling perfectly into place. Cersei had immediately blamed her imp brother, Tyrion, and the old Lannister Lion had been more than happy to throw his son into the black cells below the Red Keep. Then, with Tyrion’s young wife’s disappearance, Sansa left little doubt of the couple’s guilt in the King’s sudden, very public death. 

Olenna had been grateful Lord Baelish had been able to sneak the young Stark girl from the wedding feast. The plan had been for him to sneak Sansa to the Eyrie and keep her safe. Then, after her husband’s death, he would send her to High Garden and be free to marry Willas. In exchange for his service, Lord Baelish would be named Hand of the King.

With Joffrey rotting in the seven hells, and his murderer rotting in the black cells awaiting trial, Olenna reminded the head of House Lannister that Tyrell’s were still _owed_ their marriage alliance. Therefore, much to Cersei’s objections, Tywin agreed Margaery would marry young Tommen because a Lannister always pays their debts. Thus, a fortnight after King Joffrey’s death, Margaery married King Tommen at the Sept of Baelor. 

A few days after Margaery married Tommen, Tyrion’s trial for the murder of the late King began. Of course, the Imp demanded a trial by combat, which left Prince Oberyn Martell dead. However, the night before the Lannister dwarfs execution, the head of house Lannister was found dead in the privy, and the dwarf had vanished into the night. Olenna had been thrilled because there was no one left to carry on house Lannister. Therefore, with the main Lannister line on the brink of extension, she could suggest Margaery and Tommen’s second-born son be named a Lannister and placed as heir to Casterly Rock. 

_If all had gone according to plan, the Tyrell’s would have had blood in control of the North, the Reach, the Westerlands, and the Crown._

But things did not go according to plan. 

With the Old Lion out the way, Olenna was sad to say she underestimated the grieving Lioness’ ability to play the Game of Thrones. The Queen of Thorns had expected some resistance from the Dowager Queen, but she believed once Margaery was able to give her last golden child a prince, the hatred she felt towards the new queen would lessen. She never expected Cersei to convince the High Sparrow to arrest both Loras and Margaery. Loras had been detained because he had _"Broken the Laws of Gods and Men,"_ by having _unholy_ relations with men, and Margaery had been charged with perjury for defending her brother… _All would have been fine if Cersei had never had that whore testify he had an intimate relationship with Loras. Cersei had to have paid the whore to seduce Loras._

There were many things Olenna was unsure of at the moment. All she was sure of at this time was that she wanted to rid the Seven Kingdoms of Cersei and the gods forsaken High Sparrow; she just wanted her family to be safe and unharmed. She had wanted to go to the Sept of Baelor to attend the trial, but her Grandson’s told her it would not be a wise decision. Which was true. Cersei hated her as well, and if she showed up at the trial, there was a good chance she would be arrested on some fabricated charge. _Gods forbid, if I am locked away in a cell under the sept this family would truly fall apart,_ she thought as her body involuntarily shuttered.

As much as the Queen of Thorns hated sitting and doing nothing, she deduced this was her best option. She was going to have to bide her time, wait until after the trials were concluded, then take down the Lioness cunt. However, she knew if the gods were real, Cersei would be found guilty alongside her grandson Loras, _the boy should have been more careful who he was bedding_. But the gods were not truly proceeding over the trail, the High Sparrow was and she had faith in this so-called, self-proclaimed leader of the Seven. The Dowager Queen would walk away and if the gods were good, Margaery would be able to walk away as well. 

_Gods we never should have gotten in bed with the fucking Lannister Lions. We should have looked more into the King of the North, Robb Stark, when he and his mother arrived in Renly’s camp._

However, her foolish son, Mace was quick to accept anything without thinking. Mace was nothing like her; he was a dimwit. He wanted to act like he was incontrol. Normally, she could keep him in line, he would do whatever she whispered into his ear, but if she was not around, he would make hairbrained decisions. 

A knock on the door echoed throughout the simple room. She looked up at both her grandsons, to see them staring at her. “For the sake of the seven, answer the damn door, Garlan,” Olenna drawled. _I swear this family would completely fall apart if it were not for me._

Garlan returned a few moments later with a sealed scroll. Olenna snatched the missive from his hand. The wax seal was black and was not stamped with a signet. _Must be from one of my little spies. Hopefully it is some good news. Maybe they have found a way to get Margaery out from the cells below the sept._

With a renewed sense of hope, the older woman broke the wax seal and quickly read the letter to herself. 

_** Milady,  
  
Strange things are happening at the Wall. A sennight ago, the Lord Commander, Jon Snow, was killed by several members of the Watch. They were mad cause he let the Wildlings through to keep them safe. But he didn’t stay dead. Maester Aemon put a rock in the pyre with the Bastard. Then a Red Witch said some foreign words as she lit the pyre. A few minutes later, Jon Snow stepped out of the flames with a baby dragon on his shoulder.  
  
The next day, he hung the four men responsible for his death. But before he killed them, he allowed them to say their last words. After Alliser Thorne said his, Jon whispered something to him… whatever he said had Thorne sobbing like a babe. He started begging to be allowed to serve him and even called the man he killed “Your Grace.” Everyone knew Thorne despised Snow because his father fought against him during the Rebellion, so I don’t know what Jon said that left Thorne so devastated. After they were dead, we were ordered to dangle the bodies of the traitors off the North side of the Wall - two days later their bodies were taken down, wrapped in ropes and placed in the ice cells. I do not know why their bodies were not burned.  
  
The night of the executions, I overheard Jon telling one of the brothers his sister was coming to the Wall and not to let her stay because her husband would attack the Wall if it were confirmed she was there. Also, I heard him tell the Red Witch when they got to Dragonstone, he would allow her to take one of the ships to Volantis. The Next morning, Jon Snow, Maester Aemon, Benjen Stark and the thousands of Wildlings that were camped outside the gates of Castle Black were gone.  
  
Your Servant, Satin Flowers  
  
** _

There was so much in the letter to digest. So much that did not make sense. _What was so dangerous that the Lord Commander let the Wildlings come south? How did he not turn to ash when they burned his body? A dragon hatchling? Why would the old Targaryen Maester put a dragon egg into the funeral pyre of a bastard? Dragons have been extinct for years, unless the rumors of Daenerys Targaryen are true. Perhaps he heard the rumor she had hatched her dragon and wanted one of his own. But why the pyre of Ned Stark's base born son… Wait. No it can’t be._ A gasp left Olenna’s throat as she began to put unimaginable pieces together. 

“Grandmother,” Willas stated, breaking her from her internal musings. “Who is the letter from? What does it say?”

“Is it good news?” Garlan continued the questioning. “Has Margaery been acquitted and freed?”

However, before she could answer him, or even finish processing everything that had been written there was a loud bang. The walls of the room began to shake and the shattering of glass could be heard in the distance. Her eyes darted towards the window to see a ball of green flames erupting from the top of the Great Sept of Bealor, followed by a plume of black smoke. People were screaming as they ran from the explosion. 

For a moment she was speechless and she stared at the scene unfold before her. _Wildfire. Margaery. Loras. Mace._ Her mind was spinning. Olenna was not daft, she knew there was no way her family survived the blast. But she was too numb to move as her mind continued to spin

_My family was there. King Tommen and his mother-Cersei are there. Where did the Wildfire come from? Who would blow up the Sept with Wildfire? Was it the curse of the Mad King? Was it one of the small folk? Was it someone from the Iron Bank? Did someone hire an assassin to kill everyone who mattered so they could take over the Iron Throne? But who? Was it the Martell’s? Old Walder? That Bolton Bastard? Littelfinger?_

Thoughts were still spinning through Olenna’s mind as her eyes involuntarily shifted away from the ruins of the Sept and towards the Red Keep searching for an army storming the Red Keep. However, from the distance, she did not see any soldiers except for the Lannister guards and the Gold Cloaks. She could also see a woman in a long black dress, standing on a balcony, smirking as she looked towards where the Sept had been standing just moments before. _Cersei? What is Cersei still doing at the Castle? Her trial is today. She was supposed to be at the Sept hours ago..._

Olenna then sucked in a deep lungful of smokey air. “This was Cersei,” she muttered aloud. 

“What are you talking about Grandmother,” Willas asked as he limped over with his cane to stand beside her chair.

“The cunt played us all for fools. Her plan to dethrone Margaery failed so she devised another plan. She won,” Olenna painfully stated, knowing her dream of seeing her blood on the throne had just extinguished.

The ground began to shake once more as there was another smaller explosion in one of the buildings beside the ruined Sept. 

“Grandmother, it is not safe. We need to get out of the city,” Garlan commanded. “If it was Cersei…”

“It was that old cunt,” Olenna interjected.

“If Cersei learns we are in the city, she will come for us,” Garlan tried again. When she did not object he continued. “We need to leave now. We can come up with a plan when we return to High Garden.”

Olenna nodded in agreement as she folded the scroll and placed it into the waistband of her gown. As much as she hated running, she knew her eldest grandson was correct. Cersei would stop at nothing until everyone she considered an enemy was dead. She also knew she would get her revenge against the lion cunt. She would dance on her ashes even if she had to live her afterlife in the seven flaming hells to see it done. 

* * *

****

##  THE SHIVERING SEA.....

One of the great things about traveling with the Free Folk was they knew how to safely and efficiently travel in snow and ice. However, Jon was thankful the autumn snows and ice between Castle Black and Eastwatch by the Sea had not been too treacherous. Therefore, allowing himself and his thousands of traveling companions to make the journey in just over a sennight.

After everyone had boarded the thirty-two ships Stannis left behind at the port; they quickly set sail. The winds were kind, and within a few days, they exited the Bay of Seals and turned south into the Shivering Sea. Just before Jon retired to his chambers that evening, Ser Davos told him if the winds remained kind, they would reach the shores of Dragonstone in just over a half moonturn. 

Jon could not sleep. His mind was racing about all he needed to accomplish once he arrived at Dragonstone. He also could not forget the last time he had visited the island… _When I pushed Dany away when she needed me the most._

He also remembered the first time he had visited the volcanic island… When he first met the feisty Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen. He had gone as the King in the North, hoping to secure an alliance. He had no plan but to ask, _beg really,_ the Targaryen Queen to allow him to mine the Dragonglass below her castle. He told her she needed to put her campaign for the Iron Throne on hold. He told her she needed to come North with her armies and her dragons to aid the North in their time of need. He demanded all of this and offered her nothing in exchange for her assistance _because Sansa said the North deserved their Independence_. At first he had agreed with the woman he believed his younger, politically savvy sister because the North had suffered so much in such a short amount of time. 

However, once he took the time to get to know Daenerys, took the time to talk to those that chose to follow her, he realized she was a good person who only wanted what was best for those that believed in her. The shores of Dragonstone were also where he realized he had fallen in love with the Valyrian goddess. _Gods I was a fucking idiot back then. I should have offered her a marriage alliance. That would have been a wise decision to unite the North with the South before the Great War. Maybe if we had married, the North would have not seen her as a threat. Maybe if we ruled the seven Kingdoms together, Sansa would not have betrayed me…_ Jon scoffed aloud at that thought, _of course, she would have still played the game. She did not really care about Northern Independence, she wanted power. Even after Bran, a son of Ned Stark and a man of the North, her own fucking brother, was chosen to be the king of Westeros, she demanded Independence because they deserved it. I guess I wasn’t the only one who fell into her trap - she did not stop until she got what she felt she deserved._

As much as Jon had allowed himself to be manipulated in his past, especially by Sansa, he had not been quite as stupid as everyone believed him to be. He knew exactly why a union between the two had never been proposed by her advisors. Afterall, just before he left Winterfell to join the Night’s Watch, it had been Tyrion Lannister, the man who had gone on to become her Hand, who reminded him what Westeros thought of bastards like him… _**“Let me give you some counsel, bastard. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”**_ A marriage alliance between the two was never an option because all of Westeros knew he was nothing but a greedy bastard. His blood was black and tainted. As a bastard, he had not been worthy of a trueborn, pureblooded, Queen’s hand. And even if they had married. the south never would have accepted a base born man as their king. 

“You are not a bastard. You have never been a bastard,” his grandfather stated definitively, bringing him from his brooding thoughts. “If you are to correct the mistakes of your past, you must remember that! You must remember only noble blood runs through your veins and must prove to Westeros who you are!”

“That’s right, I am not Jon Snow. I am not the Bastard son of Eddard Stark. I am not the boy whose father graciously allowed him to grow-up alongside his trueborn siblings and receive a proper education because he felt guilty. I am a Targaryen.” He declared as he stood up from his bed and began walking around his empty cabin. “I am Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of my name. I am the Son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and wife Princess Lyanna Stark. I am the rightful King of Westeros!”

“That is right my boy,” Aerys said proudly. “You must kill the bastard within you. Discard your bastard armor and never forget, you are THE KING and it is your duty to protect off of Westeros from what is coming. Only you can unite the seven kingdoms for the battle that is coming.” 

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Jon whispered graciously. 

_Now just how am I going to fix my past?_ Jon thought as he paced the wooden planked floor of his chambers on the ship. He did not know what to expect once he arrived at the rocky shores of his ancestral home. The last time his ship anchored at the island, he also did not know what to expect - He did not know if he would be taken prisoner by the Targaryen Queen or burned alive by her dragons. However, this time she was not going to be there. She was still in Meereen, learning to rule. _So much of my path has already changed. Has Dany’s path changed as well? Does she remember the past as well? Seven hells, if she does…_ Jon shook his head to clear the thought. _Perhaps I should have Melisandre go to her after she convinces the High Priest at the Temple in Volantis to join our cause._

_“Grandfather, what do you think I should do? Should I send the Red Priestess to meet with Dany?”_

“Aegon, remember. You are not alone.” 

“I know that. I have you to guide me,” He answered with a smile, grateful that this time, he would have someone with him, that could guide him from making the mistakes he’d done so in the past

“Don’t worry. I will be here for you whenever you need me. But that is not what I meant...” 

_“What do you mean?”_ Jon asked furrowing his brow.

“You just said your path has changed. Remember who is returning home with you.”

The young king was perplexed for a few moments. He was about to ask his grandfather what he meant when he realized there was another Targaryen on the ship. “Uncle Aemon,” Jon answered with a smile. _“I honestly do not know what I would do without you, Grandfather.”_

“Well, if I did not intervene when you tired to kill yourself after you were exiled, you would be rotting in the seven hells and House Targaryen would have seen it’s end.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he huffed.

After he donned his old fur lined cloak and secured his sword belt with Longclaw around his waist he called to his loyal direwolf and dragon hatchling to join him. Once the little silver dragon was perched on his shoulder, he ruffled the soft white fur on the top of Ghost’s head and the three of them left the room.

⬥⬦◆◇◈◇◆⬦⬥

When he arrived at the door to his uncle’s quarters he lifted his hand to knock and then paused. _Gods dammit, it’s late. Maester Aemon is probably sleeping. The last thing I need to do is disturb the man. Perhaps I will come back in the morning and we can talk as we break our fast._

“I can hear you thinking on the other side of the door, Aegon,” his elderly uncle called. “Come in here, my boy. Keep an old man company.”

Jon did not need to be told twice. 

When he entered the room, his elderly great-uncle was sitting at a table under the window. There was a crystal pitcher of dark red wine on the table. _I never knew Aemon liked wine._ Jon thought as the old man took a sip from the glass he had in his hand and closed the book he had been reading with the other. 

“Come, have a seat,” he motioned for Jon to join and then began to refill his glass of wine and then filled another glass as well. “Enjoy a glass of sweetwine.”

Jon sat down across from the oldest living member of the Targaryen dynasty. Ghost and the baby dragon settled on the floor beside the table.

“What is it that you are reading, Uncle?” He asked, taking a sip of the sweet wine that his uncle offered. Jon could not help but notice the way the elderly man’s lips curled into a smile and how his dark indigo eyes twinkled when the word _uncle_ left Jon’s lips.

“It is the same book I read the last time I was on a ship, when I was heading to Castle Black so many years ago… And before that, I used to read it to Egg when we were small boys,” Aemon answered with a wistful smile. “It is a collection of stories about those who had Dragon Dreams.”

Jon vaguely remembered, one night when they were sailing North and were lying in bed with their limbs intertwined under the sheets, Daenerys telling him about how she had had dreams of riding a black dragon before her sons were born. “Dragon Dreams are prophetic dreams?” his reply came out as a question rather than the statement he intended.

“That is correct my boy,” Aemon replied, his smile widening with pride. “I thought perhaps there might be something in one of these old stories that will help us understand the vision you saw while your body was in limbo between the realm of the living and the dead.”

Jon was confused for a moment. He had not had a prophetic dream warning him about his downfall as Daenys the Dreamer had visions of the doom of Valyria. He had actually lived that terrible reality. He was being given a chance to fix the mistakes he made in his past. Though, Jon could see why his uncle might believe he had had a dragon dream because he had not told the group about his grandfather telling him he had another chance to right his wrongs. He had simply told them what they needed to know - That he went south with Sansa and took back Winterfell. That he went to Dragonstone and Daenerys allowed him to mine the Dragonglass. That after the death of Viserion during the fucked up idea to get a wight and take it to Cersei, they formed an alliance. How the dead broke through the Wall. The Night King could be destroyed with Valyrian Steel. That, how after he learned the truth of his parentage, he shared it with those he thought he could trust. He felt they had the right to know the truth and he believed that by telling them, it would lessen the stress on his soul that was being caused by the keeping such a secret. However, instead of helping him come to terms with the fact that he had been lied to his entire life, Sansa used that information as a weapon to help her gain power and also allowed others to manipulate him _all because they knew I was weaker and easier to control than Daenerys_. How this betrayal cost Dany another of her dragons, her best friend and made her feel that she had no one who loved her. He told them it was his fault she died because he had allowed others to manipulate him. How he had allowed House Targaryen to become extinct.

“Egg,” Aemon stated, taking Jon’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Jon met the older man’s gaze and could see true concern in his clear eyes. “You appear to be a thousand miles away.”

“I am sorry,” Jon replied with a half-hearted smile. “I was just thinking about the past.” 

“You should be thankful for your dragon dream. It was truly a blessing. Once again the blood of the dragon has found a way to help our house survive.”

Jon was conflicted. Did he want to tell his uncle he had murdered Daenerys, and that he had been too much of a coward to look her in the eyes as he stabbed her through the heart? Did he need to share with him how he was sent back to his resurrection instead of to the seven hells? Should he just be thankful that he was being given a second chance and pretend it was all just a nightmare?

_“Aegon, Aemon is not Sansa,” the voice of his Grandfather rang in his head. “Has Aemon ever betrayed you or your trust.”_

_“No.”_

_“I think you know what you need to do.”_

“I don’t think it was just a dream, Uncle,” Jon whispered. _Uncle Aemon needs to know the full truth. He deserves to know the truth._ “I feel as though I truly lived that past.”

“Perhaps you did, perhaps you did not. But we do know that no matter if it happened or not, you have a chance to correct your mistakes,” Aemon deduced, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “As you told us before, much has changed from your vision. For one I am here with you this time and I can see…”

“Uncle, I haven’t told you everything I saw - experienced…” 

Jon then told his great uncle the entire truth. Before, he had told the group he and Dany had been pitted against one another and she had died because of this… He now admitted the manulations of those surrounding them had led to Daenerys’ death by _his_ hand. How he became a queenslayer and kinslayer had led him to once again be sentenced to a life at the Wall. And how when he decided to just end House Targaryen, he was visited by a voice telling him he could fix everything.

When he finished the tale, he reluctantly met the elderly Maester’s gaze. He was prepared to see anger and hatred. However, he saw concern. Compassion. 

“Uncle, I swear, I am not mad,” the young Targaryen quickly added, fearing the concerned look was one of pity.

“I never thought that you were, my boy,” the old man said with a smile. “But tell me more about this voice. Is it a voice of someone you knew before you came to the Wall? Is it your own voice?” 

“It’s not my own voice… and I have never actually met the speaker…” Jon trailed off, searching for the best way to speak the truth. Thankfully the Maester was patient. He then took a deep breath, fingering the best way would be to just state the fact. “It’s the voice of my grandfather,” he added softly. 

“Rickard?” He asked, one of his brows quirking as he waited for Jon to reply.

Jon shook his head, unable to find his voice at the moment. 

“Aerys,” Aemon said with a smile, looking almost relieved. “You know, your grandfather was not always an evil person. After he was kidnapped and held captive at Duskendale, he was never the same… Perhaps he is also being given a second chance to correct the mistakes of his past.”

“Aye,” Jon nodded. “But do I truly deserve the chance to right the wrongs of my past?”

“Egg, you must remember, you are not a kinslayer. You have not been manipulated by those who crave chaos and power. You have not killed Daenerys.”

“But what if it was not just some vision. What if Dany remembers me telling her I loved her as I slid my dagger into her heart?” Jon asked, unable to hold back the choked sob that made its way from his throat. 

“Because, if my niece is anything like the woman I’ve heard tales about, she would have had Ser Jorah bring her to the Wall so she could confront you.” Aemon said as his eyes twinkled with mirth. 

It was then Jon remembered why he’d come to his uncle’s chambers in the first place. He wanted to know about Daenerys in this life. 

“Uncle, there are so many differences to my life from what I recall… I remembered that you received letters about Daenerys’ life in Essos. Sam and I would read them to you.”

“You want to know about what I have heard. You want to know if what I know is different from what you saw.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I need to know if her path is the same or if it has changed.”

“That is very wise,” the Maester said proudly before he told Jon a very different story from the one he knew about Dany’s life in Essos.

“So Viserys was killed in a fire in Pentos? Dany was never forced to marry Khal Drogo?” Jon said in disbelief. “She escaped with Ser Jorah and hatched her dragons in Qarth?”

“Yes, Egg,” Aemon chuckled. “And the last I heard she has been dealing with a Harpy problem in Meereen and Lord Tyrion Lannister and Ser Varys have recently in the city.”

“Well, that happens to be the same,” Jon chuckled as he finished his glass of wine. He started to refill their glasses when his dragon hatchling climbed from off Ghost’s back and landed on the table with a loud screech.

“It appears your little one is hungry,” Aemon laughed.

“Aye, he can be quite demanding when his belly is empty,” Jon chuckled along with his uncle, scooping up the silver dragon and placing him on his shoulder. “I guess I’d better head down to the mess hall and see what I can find for him.”

“Do you mind if this old man joins you? I believe I could use a snack myself… I always sleep better with a full stomach.”

“Not at all,” Jon said with a smile, offering his arm to his elderly uncle.

A few minutes later, Aemon and Jon were sitting at one of the wooden benches in the mass hall, silently snacking on some crusty brown bread and butter and a jug of a high quality ale as Ghost and the hatchling feasted on the head of a rather large fish.

“I still cannot believe that old egg hatched,” the Maester said wistfully as he watched the dragon eat in fascination. 

“Aye, I never even knew you had a dragon egg with you at the Wall.”

“Well, as you are aware, the Wall is not the honorable calling it once was. If it were known I had my dragon egg with me, someone could have easily stolen it, sold it and fucked off for a posh life in Essos.”

Jon could not help the laugh that escaped his throat at his uncle’s crass words. “That is very true,” Jon agreed, taking another bite of bread. _I have only had this dragon a little over fortnight and I could not imagine a life without him._

“You know, you never have told me the name you have chosen for the first dragon on Westerosi soil in over one hundred years.”

Jon swallowed his mouthful of bread and washed it down with a swig of ale. “I haven’t named him yet,” he confessed.

“And why not?” 

Jon did not know how to explain it. Naming Ghost had come naturally, it was almost as if the direwolf had named himself. However, naming a dragon was different. Did he want to go with a Valyrian name or a Westerosi name? Dragons were highly intelligent and what would happen if he did not like the name he chose. How did one actually go about naming a fucking dragon? Jon did his best to explain this to the Maester.

When he finished, the elderly man took Jon’s hand. “I have never heard of a dragon being upset by the name they were given.”

“True… I have gone over the names of dragons I recalled from lessons. Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Moondancer, Dreamfyre... But none seem to fit,” Jon admitted, looking at the little silver dragon who was still happily feasting on the fish flesh. 

“Perhaps he deserves a unique name,” Aemon suggested.

“Aye, but what?”

The Maester was quiet for a moment, when suddenly his eyes lit up. “Tell me, Egg, how did Daenerys name her dragons?”

“In my past life, she named them after people who influenced her life… Drogon after her dead husband, Drogo and Rhaegal and Viserion after her dead brothers.” When Jon said Rhaegal’s name he felt a pulling at his heart. He said a silent prayer to any of the gods that might be listening that the green dragon was safe and that he would be able to protect him from Euron, the Night King and any other that would cause him harm in this life.

“Perhaps you should do the same,” Aemon said with a smile. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jon mused.

For the next few minutes, Aemon and Jon began calling out names to see if the dragon would respond. They tried variations of Robb and Eddard and Aegon and Rhaenys. They even tried combining several of the names together. Suddenly, a name came to Jon’s mind and before he could stop it, the word left his lips. “Ricaerys.”

The cat-sized silver dragon looked up from the fish head and towards him.

Jon felt his heart rate increasing and he could see his Great Uncle Aemon smiling from his periphery. 

“Ricaerys, come here boy,” Jon tested the name once more. 

The little dragon screeched in happiness and flapped his wings as hopped over to him. _He will be flying before I know it,_ Jon thought with a smile as he picked up the dragon from the floor.

“Ricaerys,” Aemon stated as he reached his hands out and scratched the dragon’s warm silver scales. “After both our grandfathers.”

Jon was about to answer his uncle when the wooden door to the mess hall flung open and the Red Witch darted into the room with wide eyes. “The Great Sept in King’s Landing… It’s gone.”

“What?” Jon breathed out. _No. No. No… This was not supposed to happen yet. There were supposed to be at least six moon turns maybe closer to a year before this happened._ “Are you sure?” he asked weakly.

“I saw it in the flames,” Melisandre confirmed. “It exploded in a great ball of green fire.”

“Has it already happened?” Aemon asked.

“I fear it has. The vision was quite clear,” she replied remorsefully. “When visions are of the future, they are hazy because they can be altered…” she trailed off. “I am so sorry, your grace.”

Jon nodded, “King Tommen?” 

“His light has been extinguished,” the Red Priestess confirmed.

“Seven hells,” Jon cursed. He had planned to present proof that Tommen was not a Baratheon and therefore, did not have a claim to the throne. _I am sure Cersei will name herself Queen before I even get to the shores of Dragonstone._ It would have been easier to dispose of Cersei if she was not the self-proclaimed Queen. 

Unable to find words, Jon silently excused himself from the table. He needed to be alone. He needed to think. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


##  ABOVE THE SMOKING SEA.....

Rhaegal loved flying. He loved stretching his long leathery wings. He loved the feel of the wind against his scales. He loved the way the air smelled fresh and crisp as he weaved in and out of the fluffy white clouds... And after spending a crazy week in the land of his ancestors, he was happy to be in the air once more. 

Upon leaving Meereen, the green dragon did not know why, but he felt called to fly into the smoking sea. As soon as he entered the waters filled with volcanoes and smoking stacks of rock he felt a connection - a connection similar to that of his brothers, telling him he needed to bathe within the magma of the fourteen flames - that by doing this he would become stronger and discover the secrets and knowledge of dragons past. 

Rhaegal did not know why, but he trusted this _feeling._ So he flew to the ruins of the lands of his ancestors. And for a sennight, bathed in the flames of the fourteen fires. After his scales had been kissed by each of the fires, he felt bigger. 

Stronger. He felt he could go faster and further with each beat of his wings

Hungrier. He ate the stone men that tried to bother him. He ate tigers and fish. He even ate a brown haired man that dared tried to touch him. _Idiot. He should not have entered this sacred place anyway. He got what he deserved._ Though the dragon did enjoy the way the men who were with him scurried back to their boat and sailed away.

Smarter. He felt as though there were another brother telling him of things to avoid. Telling him of things that were dangerous to dragons. 

_Dragons are not invincible._ His new brother had told him one night as he stared up at the starry sky. 

_What are you talking about?_ Rhaegal had questioned, because he certainly felt as though nothing could harm him, especially after he had spent the day playing in a pool of molten lava. 

_Have you heard the story about Meraxes? Who was slain during the first Dornish war?_

Rhaegal did not know. _Was he a hatchling? Mother always said we were so vulnerable as hatchlings because our scales were not yet hard._

_No, my brother._

Rhaegal was then told the story of how Queen Rhaenys rode her dragon Meraxes into battle near a place called Hellholt. And how he was shot down with a well aimed iron bolt to the eye. Both the Dragon and his rider perished in the attack. 

His new brother also told him the tales about Ser Galladon of Morne, Serwyn of the Mirror Shield and Davos the Dragonslayer, who were all rumored to kill dragons by attacking them with a Valyrian Steel sword to the eye. 

_Perhaps mother should make us some sort of armor to protect our eyes from spears or swords,_ Rhaegal mused. 

_If it were only that easy. The eye of a dragon is not it's only weakness._

He was then told the story of a terrible war that was known as the Dance of Dragons. During this war many dragons died. But not from injuries to their eyes, but they were killed by other dragons.

He was perplexed. _Why would dragon kill another green dragon?_ The green dragon inquired after the elder dragon finished his story. 

_That, I cannot tell you,_ the voice admitted. _But I do know that if Dragons are going to be restored now that magic has returned to this realm, we must be smarter. We cannot turn on one another._

This was something Rhaegal could easily agree to. He could not imagine harming either of his brothers, or the new hatching his rider had awakened from stone. He did not know how he knew his rider had hatched an egg, but he could feel it and he knew he needed to protect the baby. 

_Is there anything else I must know?_ Rhaegal asked. He wanted to be smart. He wanted to know if there was anything else that could harm a dragon. 

_There is,_ his brother lost in time confirmed. _A dragon must never go into battle without a rider._

_Why is that? Isn't it the duty of a dragon to protect the ones with our blood? The ones we love?_

_I once would have agreed with you... But there is a tale I heard, from another place in time. A myth perhaps, but it cannot be ignored... In the story, that was a beautiful cream colored dragon, who flew with his brothers to an icy glacier to save a man with the blood of the dragon. This dragon was struck in the neck by a magical spear of crystalized ice and fell to his death in a frozen sea._

_That sounds terrible!_

_So please, my brother, remember… Dragons are not invincible. Never turn on your siblings or any new dragons that might join the family. Keep your rider close and protect yourself and those you love._

After that the pull he felt from the voice faded away. 

It was then he knew he needed to be on his way. He needed to find his rider. _Father._ Rhaegal did not know exactly who this man was, but he could feel him, it was as if they shared a connection in a previous life.

I will find you soon, _Father._ I will keep you safe and I know you will keep me safe as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How I figured Jon's travel timeline - sorry if my math is incorrect or if it seem like he is traveling too fast:
> 
>   * Castle Black to Eastwatch: I found that the distance between Castle Black and Eastwatch is 126 miles. If a person walks about 3 miles per hour for 6 hours per day = 18 miles a day = 7 days. Reference: [How far is it from Castle Black to Eastwatch](https://www.quora.com/How-far-is-it-from-Castle-Black-to-Eastwatch)
>   * Eastwatch to Dragonstone: I saw that DS is 2-3k miles so say 2500miles 2500x1.609=4023km, 4023/250=16.1 days of the winds are kind. Calulation reference: [How long would it take to sail across The Narrow Sea](https://www.quora.com/How-long-would-it-take-to-sail-across-Narrow-Sea)
> 


**Author's Note:**

> Let us know that you think in the comments!


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